


Dovah Queen - Dragonborn Champion

by HarperPotts



Series: Dovah Queen [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, No Skyrim Knowledge Required, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Redemption Must Be Earned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 171,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarperPotts/pseuds/HarperPotts
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen achieved her dream of winning the Iron Throne, only to be killed by a dagger to the heart by Jon Snow. However, her story did not end there. Instead of the afterlife, Daenerys awoke to find herself in the land of Skyrim in Tamriel. What happened next is chronicled in the first book: Dovah Queen - Dragonborn Rising, but her story is not yet done.Now her story continues in Dovah Queen - Dragonborn ChampionKnowledge of Skyrim is NOT required. The world will be explained as the story unfolds.
Series: Dovah Queen [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559446
Comments: 158
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

# Prologue

Middas, the 22nd of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Vilkas sat with Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbinger of the Companions, at Kodlak’s little round working table just outside his room in the barracks of Jorrvaskr. This was where Kodlak could usually be found when he wasn't busy with the business of running the Companions. There was one other chair at the table and any Companion who was bold enough could sit down, drink a brew, and talk with the Harbinger. However, even in the halls of Jorrvaskr very few were brave enough to sit in that chair. Kodlak Whitemane might be old, but his very presence was still intimidating. Among his many feats, Kodlak and his shieldbrother Skjor had once fought off one hundred and one orc berserkers and lived to tell the tale. Despite his age he could still hold his own against any Companion for at least a little while. Vilkas was among those few who would sit down in the other chair. He had spent many an afternoon at this table: drinking, talking, and laughing with Kodlak.

Today there wasn’t much laughter. The Companions were beset with many problems of late, but the one that concerned him the most was personal. He was proud to part of The Circle. The Companions were the greatest heroes of Skyrim, and the Circle were the greatest of the Companions. Composed of elder and respected warriors, the Companions elevated to the Circle were intended to be exemplars for the younger warriors and advisors to the Harbinger. That system had worked well for nearly almost a thousand years. That changed a few hundred years ago when Terrfyg, who was the Harbinger at the time, made a pact with the Glenmoril witches. He became a werewolf, and he passed that gift to the Circle. Ever since then every member of the Circle was secretly a werewolf.

While most regarded lycanthropy as a curse, for a warrior it could be a precious gift if you had a strong will and could control the beast, as Vilkas knew from personal experience. Even without changing form, his senses were sharper, his strength was greater, and his reflexes faster. When he allowed the wolf to break free, he became a killing machine. The untold story of how Kodlak and Skjor survived the orc berserkers was that they had set the wolf free to do so. Vilkas had known the secret of the Circle before he joined. He had been eager for the gift. No one had mentioned the price. Lycanthropy was a gift from the Daedric Prince Hircine, and like all gifts of the Daedric Princes, it was poisoned. The Companions prided themselves on being the greatest and most honorable champions of Skyrim, yet none of the Circle would ever see Sovngarde. Their souls were all forfeit to Hircine. An eternity in his hunting grounds awaited them.

Kodlak had recently revealed this truth to the Circle. Skjor and Aela the Huntress weren’t bothered that much. They had embraced their wolf and didn’t mind spending their afterlife in Hircine’s Hunting Grounds. Vilkas had felt betrayed. He had always expected to go to Sovngarde, even if he was in no hurry to get there. His twin Farkas was of the same mind. Both of them were trying to resist the call of the wolf. Farkas was being more successful, which proved that smarts and will were too different things. Vilkas found it difficult to keep his wolf caged. The rage of the beast filled him all the time now. He wanted to give in and feel its power. Even though Kodlak urged him not to.

“I agree with you,” he told the Harbinger. “Of course, I do, but I still hear the call of the blood.”

“We all do,” said Kodlak. “It is our burden to bear, but we can overcome.”

Vilkas believed him. Somehow, the centuries-old rot at the heart of the Companions would be lifted, because Kodlak said it could be done. “You have my brother and me, obviously, but I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily.”

“Leave that to me,” replied Kodlak. He made a slight gesture with his head.

Vilkas understood. He had heard the footsteps approaching. By the footfalls there were two of them. By their smell, they were both young women. He turned to face the arrivals.

The first of the young women was short with pale blonde hair with purple eyes. She wore steel armor in the Nord style, a base of leather with steel breastplate and other panels. It was a good heavy armor offering protection without sacrificing too much mobility. She wore it awkwardly, clearly not accustomed to the weight. He knew her at first sight. Daenerys Targaryen, the Unburnt, and more importantly the Dragonborn. That meant the second young woman standing behind her with three red dragons painted on her face must be her housecarl, Sofija the Dragonslayer.

“I have come because the Companions are known to be the greatest warriors in Skyrim. Skjor sent me to speak with you,” said Daenerys. She had a forceful way of speaking, polite, but resolved.

“Did he now?” asked Kodlak. “Here, let me have a look at you. Hmm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit.”

“Kodlak, you're not truly considering accepting her?” It wasn’t that she wasn’t worthy. She was more worthy than most who came seeking to join.

The Companions had suffered two defeats from the dragon. The first attempt involved a half-dozen Companions. None survived. Kodlak had rallied almost all the Companions for their second attempt. Only those too old and too new had been left behind. Nearly two score men went to fight the dragon. He had been one of them. The battle had been a disaster. The dragon simply flew past them overhead blasting them with fire. Many of them were dead before the beast even deigned to land and fight them. Once it landed, they gave the beast more than it bargained for. They swarmed it and injured the beast. It yielded that day retreating to the sky. After that the dragon stayed away from the vicinity of Whiterun. The Companions called it a victory because they forced the dragon to retreat, but thirteen Companions died. They could ill-afford such victories. The tales and songs said that in the Dragon Wars men had died by the thousands. For once, it appeared that the bards did not exaggerate.

The Dragonborn had managed to kill the beast with a small handful of men. There was no doubt that she had a warrior’s heart. However, the Companions were more than the best warriors of Skyrim. They were built upon a foundation of equality. Every man his own. Every woman her own. The newbloods and the younger warriors followed the Harbinger and the Circle out respect because they chose to do so. They weren’t sworn to follow like a warband. Daenerys had a band of followers all of them pledged to her – just like the housecarl standing at her side.

“Why wouldn’t I consider her, Vilkas? Last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts.”

“Apologies. But that wasn’t what I meant. We’re all equals. She has sworn followers. Her housecarl is standing right there!” He dipped his head slightly. “No offense, Dragonslayer. I’m not questioning your honor or bravery.”

Sofija’s only reaction was a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Kodlak chuckled. “Agreed. Sofjia Eli Vokedri, we have heard of your bravery, but Vilkas does raise a fair point. By bravery alone you are worthy of joining. However, by your oaths you are forbidden. I am sorry. If ever you leave the service of your thane, seek us out. We would welcome you.”

Sofija gave a deeper nod this time and smiled slightly, but she still stood stoically one step to the left and behind her thane.

“As for you, Daenerys Targaryen, your deeds precede you as well. That you have sworn followers is known to us. Vilkas is right about it being a concern, but we have admitted thanes and others with followers in the past.” He looked at Vilkas. “You should know this. We have members with wives, children, and other responsibilities. Having followers is a concern. That is all. She is brave. She is worthy.”

Vilkas felt his temper rising. His inner wolf was increasingly restless since he put it on a tight leash. What Kodlak was saying was true enough, but they weren’t some merchant guild with rules and regulations. They were the Companions! They were based on honor and tradition. Kodlak was bending those traditions because she was the Dragonborn. “It is not just that she has followers. It is also how she fights. We’re both Nords, and I respect the power of the Thu’um, but she fights with spells and Shouts. We’ve always been a band of warriors.”

“Always?” asked Kodlak.

Vilkas held back a growl. He knew better than most that they hadn’t always been just warriors. He had read the records. He could name all of the original five hundred Companions. The surviving stories spoke only of mighty warriors, but the names told a different story: Troels the Firestorm, Helga Kynedottir, Frode Stormcaller, Tove the Healer, and others. They had originally included shaman and mages amongst their numbers. Sometime in thousands of years of history, the Companions had become the greatest warriors, not the greatest heroes. “Perhaps not always,” he agreed. “But for as long as we remember.”

“Is that a fact?” He glanced meaningfully over at Sofija Dragonslayer, who was a known spellblade.

“We have admitted some spellblades, but none for over fifty years.” Kodlak was tripping him up. Sofija was a warrior. Daenerys was not.

“Does it matter that I have been learning to fight with weapons?” asked Daenerys. “Magic can be fickle and fail you when you need it most. A blade always works.”

“You see,” said Kodlak. “She is brave enough, and she is learning. Vilkas would you take her out in the yard and see how she does with a weapon?”

And while it was a request, Vilkas obeyed. “Of course.” He stood up. “Well, come on. Follow me.”

He led Daenerys out to their practice ground behind Jorrvaskr. The sun was setting and several other Companions were training. They all turned to watch as Vilkas led the Dragonborn to a fighting circle. “The old man said to have a look at you, so let's do this. Just have a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry, I can take it.”

For such a slight lass, she hit hard. Not as hard as a man, and even Njada Stonearm hit harder, but Njada was all lean muscle. Daenerys looked soft. More importantly, she was clearly inexperienced. Someone had shown her how she should swing a sword, but she hesitated too much, she was still thinking about what she should do instead of just doing it. She would be better off switching to a mace until she learned a bit more. It suited her fighting style better, more strength than skill. He didn’t know what Kodlak was thinking, but she didn’t belong here.

He was about to tell her that she wasn’t ready, but then he noticed that in their fighting they had turned around. The Throat-of-the-World was behind her and hanging above her head like the finger of the gods was the Red Comet, although some called it the Bleeding Comet or the Dragonflame Comet. The comet had appeared in the southern sky on the night that she and her followers had killed the dragon. It shone brightly across a backdrop of stars and its tail stretched across the heavens. Almost everyone agreed it was a sign from the gods, but what the gods wanted was unclear. Were they simply hailing the arrival of the Dragonborn? Or were they marking her way? When the sun set the comet appeared to be pointing to the Throat of the World where the Greybeards masters of the Thu’um dwelled. Others believed it wasn’t where the comet was pointing, but where it appeared. The comet was in the southern sky, indicating that the Dragonborn should go south to Cyrodil. Regardless of the meaning, the comet was clearly an omen. Who was he to argue with the gods?

“You might just make it. But for now, you're still a whelp to us, newblood. So, you do what we tell you. Here's my sword. Go take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful with it.”

Daenerys looked puzzled for a moment, then she shrugged. “Very well.”

A few days later while he sat in the main dining hall enjoying a mead, Ria approached him about Daenerys Targaryen. Ria was the youngest of the Companions. Kodlak had sworn her in after the funerals from the dragon debacle. Vilkas knew that she hadn’t been quite ready, but Kodlak was making a statement. While some members of the Companions had died, the Companions lived on. Ria was of Imperial blood, an orphan of the Great War, but she had been raised in Skyrim. While her skills needed to be polished, there was no doubt she had the heart of a Companion. She usually overflowed with excitement like a puppy, but she looked troubled as she approached him.

“Why the stormclouds on your face, Ria? I hear you helped Farkas and Aela take down a rogue giant.

A wide smile chased her gloom away. “We did! He made it all the way to Pelagia Farm, left a trail of damage behind. Aela shot him with arrows to get his attention, and then Farkas and I took him from behind…” She proceeded to give an accounting of the battle, downplaying her own role, while heaping praise upon Aela and Farkas.

“You did good, but is that why you’re here?”

“No,” she sighed. “I want to talk about the Dragonborn. That is, I don’t want to say anything against her. She is The Dragonborn after all, but she…”

Vilkas chuckled darkly. “Yes, she is. Sit. Have some mead. We will talk about her.”

Ria sat down and poured some mead. She guzzled down half a goblet.

Vilkas had to suppress a fond smile at her actions. She was so young, still trying to impress by showing she could handle her drink. “Good. Now, let’s talk. Ria, why did you join the Companions?”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed. “I've wanted to be with them since I was a little girl. I grew up on stories like Kodlak and Skjor fighting off the hundred-and-one Orc berserkers. I know, Skjor says it was more like forty, but he's just being modest. Where else would I want to be but here? Learning from the Circle, fighting at your sides.” She paused for another gulp of mead and a deep breath before she resumed where she left off. “This is everything that I have ever dreamed of since I was a small child. We’re the most famous warrior band in all of Skyrim. When we arrive, blood is spilled, and our blades sing to the glories of Ysgramor. This is life! The struggle is what reminds us to draw breath! This group... this family... this band... this is the best thing I've ever been a part of. The oldest fighting group in Skyrim, and nothing but glory from Ysgramor's day to our own. To be counted as part of that line is a bit of immortality. Even if I never see Sovngarde, I'll have that much.”

Vilkas smiled. Ria’s pure honest heart was a balm for him. This was why Kodlak had inducted her right after their ‘victory’ over the dragon. As long as Skyrim had heroes like her, the Companions would never die. “Ria, don’t ever change. Now tell me, what it is that troubles you about Daenerys?”

Ria drank deeply from her goblet again before reply. “She just got back from her first mission. Aela sent her to Bruflat, that’s a little village east of here. They lost some sheep and a little girl. It was supposed to be wolves or maybe a rogue bear. The same kind of missions that I cut my teeth on before I joined, but it turned out to be worse. It was Falmer coming out of a cave in the crags.”

Vilkas winced. He hated the bloody Falmer. He wouldn’t go into one of their caves alone if he could help it. “And she came back for help?”

“No.” Ria shook her head vigorously. “She didn’t need help. She took every one of her followers with her. They tracked the Falmer back to their cave and hunted them down, which is only to be expected. The only good Falmer is a dead Falmer. They also faced more than just Falmer. The caverns were an old Dwemer place, which shouldn’t be a surprise because, well, Falmer. They woke up a Dwarven Centurion, and they destroyed it as well!”

“And you’re bothered because she was sent out on a mission that was too dangerous for a newblood?”

“Uh, no.” She shook her head. “Of course not. We don't really know the strength of our enemy, or even our own strength, until we are tested in battle. It is in the fight and struggle that we prove our mettle. No, I’m bothered that she took all those people with her before she even knew it was Falmer!"

“Hmm.” He understood Ria's point. It wasn't that Daenerys brought help. He would have brought at least a shieldbrother with him before venturing into a Falmer cave. They liked to lure you deep into their caves and then swarm out from all sides. However, Daenerys hadn't called upon her shieldbrothers and sisters for help. She had involved outsiders. “I suppose we have to give her credit for getting the job done.”

“That! That’s exactly it. She got the job done. Life is a proving ground. She fought like... like an Imperial! Gather forces, surround, and overwhelm.” When Ria said Imperial she made it sound like a swear word.

Vilkas had to hold back a smile from the irony. This wasn't a laughing matter to Ria. She had been born in Skyrim after the Great War and raised by Nords. He was certain that she had heard many insults growing up because of her heritage. The White-Gold Concordat had never been popular in Skyrim. The only thing surprising about the Stormcloak Rebellion was how long the rumblings of discontent had simmered before they exploded.

Ria wasn't done with her rant yet. “And she acts like a merchant. She brought a cart with her when she went. An ox-drawn cart! She and her men stayed an extra two days. Do you know why? They broke the Centurion down into scrap. She bought a second cart at the village, and they hauled the whole thing back here. She brought back more dwemer metal than Whiterun has seen in years. I know we take loot. To the victor go the spoils, but we collect trophies and gold, not everything that isn’t nailed down. She couldn’t even sell it all. The smiths wanted it, but they couldn’t afford to buy it all. And, even Eorlund got in on it! He’s making her a custom set of skysteel plate armor in exchange for a big pile of Dwemer scrap. I just don't know what to think. She's the Dragonborn, but that's not how the Companions fight, or how we act. It's not what we are!”

Vilkas nodded. He understood Ria. He even agreed with her in parts, but he also trusted Kodlak. He did have good reasons for admitting her. “You're right. That's not how we fight. When we fight, it's personal. We're all equals. Every man his own. Every woman her own. However, Daenerys is the Dragonborn. She has been called upon by the gods to fight dragons, maybe even to fight Alduin, the World-Ender himself. You weren't there when we rode out to fight the dragon. We were brave, but the dragon played with us like a cat with mice. Yes, it got more than it expected once it landed, but we lost too many shieldbrothers and shieldsisters that day. Daenerys lured the dragon she fought into a trap. She had a plan, she executed it, and it worked.

“When our ancestors rebelled in the Dragon Wars men died by the thousands. Daenerys marches to war. I spoke with Kodlak about her the other day. He says we all have our weapons. I prefer two-handed blades. You use a sword and shield. Athis loves his daggers. For Daenerys, her followers are her weapons. She wielded them beautifully when she slew the dragon.”

Ria frowned. She reached for more mead, but her goblet was empty. She refilled her goblet and gulped some down before she replied. “I understand somewhat. I'm not blind. I've seen the Bleeding Comet in the sky. War is coming, but still... that's not what we're about, is it? I want to be like Kodlak and Skjor, standing back-to-back against the orc berserkers. Two warriors against a horde, no quarter asked or given.”

“Yes, that kind of battle is what we are about today, but don't forget how the Companions were born. We started when Ysgramor led the Return. Five Hundred Companions, brave and equal, and they chose to follow him. It was war for survival, man against elf. In war you follow orders, the Companions followed Ysgramor because they chose to of their own free will, but they followed.”

“But what does that mean for us? What does it mean for the Companions?”

Vilkas had asked himself the same question many times. “It means nothing for us. Daenerys does what she has to do. She commands her followers, but she doesn't command us. She understands. She's keeping her followers separate from her role as a Companion. Don't be misled by her looting. Her followers aren't a simple mercenary band. If anything, she is trying to reforge the Blades, and she is taking them back to their roots as dragon hunters. You know she has Fultheim the Fearless training her men?”

Ria nodded. “I've heard that, and I respect the man, but isn't that another problem? We stay out of political struggles. The Empire disbanded the Blades. If we’re seen as helping her restart the Blades, then people will think we’re on the Stormcloaks side.”

She wasn't wrong. Thanks to Vignar Gray-mane being quite vocal about saying the Stormcloaks had the right of it, many thought the Companions were already on the Stormcloak side. It didn't help that Eorlund Gray-Mane worked the Skyforge. Rumor had it that the Stormcloaks had an awful lot of skysteel weapons. Reforging the Blades would be a political move, no doubt about it. The Thalmor hated the Blades guts. As a Nord he thought pissing off the Thalmor was a great idea. As a Companion he was supposed to be neutral. “It is a problem, but Blades have been Companions before, and Companions have been Blades. Remember, each Companion has to be true to their own honor. Companions have left to fight in wars before. Daenerys is trying to ride two horses. One day, she will probably have to choose one, but that day is not today.”

Ria sighed. “It's so complicated. I like things simple.”

Vilkas laughed loudly. Things were never simple. “If it makes you feel better, Kodlak believes in her. We have heard rumors about another piece of Wuuthrad, and Kodlak has sent Daenerys to retrieve it. He is sending Farkas with her.”

“Wuuthrad,” echoed Ria in an awed voice. “I never had such an important mission before I was sworn. Do you think this rumor will be real? Eorlund says we have most of the pieces now.”

“Maybe lass, we'll see when Daenerys and Farkas return.”


	2. Chapter 1

# Chapter 1

Loredas, the 25th of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys kept a tight grip on her emotions and on Val’s enormous two-handed axe. Her strength had grown after she had Devoured **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** , but the axe still felt very heavy in her hands, as it should under the circumstances. It was not the weight of the metal. It was the weight of the responsibility. She could feel every one of her followers watching her as she prepared to render judgment upon the three bandits who had surrendered.

Although calling them bandits was being generous. Fort Greymoor had once protected the western approach to Whiterun. It had fallen into disrepair after many decades of neglect. However, it had still been garrisoned until **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** had attacked it. The surviving guards had stripped the fort and retreated to Whiterun. That left the dragon with free reign to hunt the nearby villages and farmsteads. The tales she heard were similar to the ones she heard on the way to Whiterun. The dragon mostly preyed on cattle, but sometimes raided farms and villages. Some of those driven out of their homes had taken shelter in the abandoned fortress. Rather than rebuild, they turned bandit, raiding and plundering their former neighbors. They were basically just armed peasants. Her scouts had captured their lookout while he was literally napping. From him they had learned how the fortress was defended, or more accurately the lack of defenses. Planning an assault had been easy. Daenerys had her archers attack the eastern wall. When the bandits in the fortress were distracted, she attacked on foot along with Sofija, Val, Lydia, and Farkas. They simply walked right in through a large breach in the western wall. The fight didn't last long. Daenerys and her followers mostly tried to keep up with Farkas as he ran from one bandit to the other cutting them down with a swipe of his sword. Once the battle was done, it was left to her to pass judgment on the scout that they had captured as well as the two who had surrendered.

Val gently laid a huge hand on her shoulder. “Lass, you don’t have to do this. I’ll do the killing for you.”

“No.” Daenerys took a deep breath. “I must do this. The one who passes the sentence should swing the axe. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. If you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.” Wisdom from another world and another life. Words shared to her by Jon Snow when they were lovers. She had loved him and thought he loved her. If she had listened to those words, then maybe she wouldn’t have burned King’s Landing. Maybe things would have gone differently. It was easy to kill when riding a fire-breathing dragon in the sky. The cries of her victims had been distant. She hadn't seen the burning corpses. She certainly felt the weight of the axe now.

“Well said!” Val nodded his approval. “I wish more Jarls felt that way. Jarl Korir certainly did not.”

“Just get it over with,” grumbled Farkas. While he shared his brother’s face, Farkas was a simple man and much less patient. “They threw down their weapons. Give them a coward’s death so we can eat.”

Daenerys walked over to where the three men were bound. Memories of being on the other side of an executioner’s axe just months ago came back to her. A Nord whose name she didn’t know had gone before her. He had bowed down before the block without being restrained. She had approached her own death kicking and screaming rather than with the dignity of a queen. While she had not done anything to the Imperials to merit at the time, she had murdered so many. Her crimes made these bandit’s crimes as trivial as a child stealing a sweet. Who was she to judge these men?

“Please!” begged a dark-haired man. “Please, we had to do something. The dragon drove us out. We had to eat.”

No matter her crimes, she was not being judged today. These men were, and they were guilty. “I might have forgiven that, but not what you did to the women.” She swung the axe down with all her might at the man’s outstretched neck. It clove right through. The man’s head hit the ground, and blood fountained out of the stump of his neck.

Daenerys felt queasy, but she would get through this. She looked over to the three women they had found. Agnis was a half-senile old crone who hadn’t fled when the Whiterun guards pulled out. She insisted it was still her duty to keep the old fortress clean. Aana was a middle-aged blonde woman who was watching with tears in her eyes.

Raina, was the third. The red-headed teenager supported many bruises from her abuse. While they had beaten her and raped her, they hadn't broken her. She cheered loudly, “Yes! You’re all going to die, you skeever-shits!”

“Please, please, please! I helped you! You caught me, and I told you how many men we had! Where they were! You won because of me. You owe me my life at least!” begged their lookout.

Daenerys swung the axe and he lost his head. That only left one.

The third man looked up and met her eyes. “What we did to the girls never set right with me, but I did it anyway. I’m ready.”

She brought the axe down.

.oOo.

Daenerys looked from her book at the sound of voices outside her tent and glanced around. It was a nice tent, far removed from the little canvas shelter that she had used on the way to Winterhold. That tent had been barely large enough for her bedroll and she had to crawl to get into it. This tent rose tall enough that even Fultheim and Farkas could stand beneath its shelter with room to spare. It was also large enough to accommodate a half-dozen people in comfort, more if they were just standing around. Fultheim called it her command tent, and she did have the obligatory table with a map on it. However, it was also effectively the women's tent.

Sofija and Aana both slept. Raina was busily sewing away trying to create a patchwork banner with the symbol for House Targaryen on it out of some cloth they had salvaged. It was busywork, but the girl needed something to do. Aana slept most of her days, but had embraced her role as cook. Raina wanted to fight, but she would never be a warrior. The bandits had hobbled both her and Anna by smashing their right ankles with hammers, so they couldn’t run away. They had followed that up by giving them sips of a weak healing potion. Their ankles had healed badly and could never be fixed by magic. Daenerys had tested Raina for magic, and she showed little aptitude, nor did she possess any useful skills. Daenerys didn’t particularly want a handmaiden, but she had apparently acquired an angry foul-mouthed one, at least until they returned to Whiterun.

She closed a ribbon into her book to serve as a bookmark. The interruption was welcome. Fultheim had recommended _The Art of War Magic_ by Zurin Arctus as the best book on strategy that had ever been written. She was only halfway through the book and she believed him. However, it was a difficult read. It was more like reading poetry than prose. She had to be read each passage multiple times and plumb them for meaning. The book really shone a light on many of her mistakes, as well as some of the things that she had gotten right more by luck than planning. However, like a heavy meal, it wasn't something she could digest all once. She pushed herself up out of her chair and stood with some effort. While she had grown both magically and physically stronger after Devouring Mirmulnir, she was still adjusting to what the Nords called steel armor. Reinforced leather would be more accurate, as it was basically leather armor with steel plates added at strategic places. At the advice of Fultheim she wore it most of the time when she wasn't actually marching across the countryside.

She cleared her throat. “Sofija, it sounds like the scouting party is back.”

Sofija sat up abruptly in her bedroll and seemed about ready to conjure a blade. She shook her head ruefully after a moment. “Yes, my thane.” She quickly got dressed and into her armor.

Daenerys felt tempted to tease Sofija about Ull missing the show she was putting on. However, she knew that her housecarl wouldn’t take it the right way. Sofija and Ull had fallen into bed together after the celebration that Jarl Balgruuf had thrown for Daenerys and her followers after slaying the dragon. They hadn’t tried to hide what had happened, nor had they made any secret of the relationship. While Nords were very committed to their clans and families, they were remarkably open to relationships before settling down. Not that they could have hidden their new status if they tried. They were traveling together and the thin canvas of Ull's tent did little to silence the sounds of their lovemaking. The one time that Sofija had discussed it at all was an awkward conversation where she had made it clear that her allegiance to Daenerys and House Targaryen was her highest priority. She told Daenerys that she had purchased a supply of Dibella's tears and would drink the potion when necessary. Whenever Daenerys was around, Sofija remained as stoic and dedicated as ever.

Daenerys glanced over to Faralda. She knew that Faralda had heard her, but she hadn’t looked up. “Would you join us to hear what the scouts said?”

Faralda put away her own book and with a gesture and a small amount of magic refreshed the magelight spell on the tentpole, but she didn't say a word. She had almost died fighting **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir**. While healing potions had saved her life, they hadn't been up to healing all the damage. The once attractive elf now had horrible red burn scars over much of her body including her hands and face. Faralda had adapted by wearing gloves and covering her entire face with warpaint. The red flaming hand that symbolized destruction magic now stood boldly on Faralda’s face on top of a copper-colored foundation. She also kept her head covered by a scarf indoors and wore a pointed wizard’s hat outside to hide the stubble that was left of her hair. However, to Daenerys the real change was that her friend and mentor had grown distant. She gave curt answers to direct questions but otherwise remained silent.

“Thank you, Faralda.” Daenerys was worried about her, but Faralda had brushed off every attempt to talk to her. Daenerys made it a point to keep her involved, so she didn't withdraw further, but she obviously didn't want to talk. Daenerys waited until Sofija moved to take her usual position behind her chair before she called out. “You may enter.”

Ull the Hunter swaggered in first with a wink at her direction that she knew was actually directed at Sofija before giving his usual concise report. “We found Dustman’s Cairn. We also found tracks. Plenty of tracks. Looks like about two dozen men went inside. I’d say yesterday.”

Jenassa entered behind Ull and moved to stand at his right side and a little in front of him. Jenassa was a Dunmer mercenary that Daenerys had hired in Whiterun. She projected an air of dangerous competence. She was a skilled archer and scout, which made her a particularly good find.

While Daenerys had resisted embracing the title of Dragonborn, that was in the past. After she Devoured **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** there could be no doubt or denial that she was indeed Dragonborn. The title came with more than honor, fame, and respect. The title also came with expectations. The people, the nobles, and even Jarl Balgruuf all believed that she would do something about the dragons that plagued Skyrim. As if that wasn't enough, the Red Comet in the sky was evidence that the gods themselves expected her to do something about the dragons. Just from the descriptions she heard, there were at least three other dragons roaming Skyrim. However, she had plotted the locations and times of reported attacks and sightings on a map. Rumors weren't entirely reliable, but there had to be at least six dragons. As if killing six dragons wasn't enough, if the legends were true, then the ancient dragon that attacked Helgen was Al-Du-In, Destroyer-Devour-Master, the World-Eater, and she was expected to fight him as well.

However, being expected to kill dragons and actually doing it were two different things. Her fight against **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** had been a close thing, too close. Nobody held the death of Mikko or Juhani against her. However, the fight had been much closer than the number of casualties made it seem. She had almost died. Faralda had come just as close, and Sofija had also been severely injured. If she continued with her same tactics, they might win the next fight with a dragon, but they might not. While some claimed she was lucky, Daenerys believed luck was more a matter of knowing how to seize opportunities than truly random chance. Preparation and planning could create those opportunities.

And it wasn't just the dragons. The people expected her to save them from all Skyrim's woes. Fralia Gray-Mane, the aging matriarch of the Gray-Mane clan, was convinced her son Thorald was still alive somewhere. Fralia asked her to somehow find him. The Gildergreen, a tree which legend said was as old as Whiterun, was almost dead. Danica Pure-Spring, the high priestess of the Temple of Kynareth, wanted her to retrieve a special dagger from some hagravens to restore it. Ysolda, a ditsy aspiring merchant had even asked if she could get her a mammoth tusk to impress some Khajiit which would somehow make Ysolda a better merchant. Not to mention the people who wanted her to solve the Stormcloak Rebellion while she was at it. Although there was a large difference of opinion on how they wanted it solved.

She did have ideas for killing dragons without almost dying. She had plenty of ideas. Unfortunately, like most things in life they all took time, money, and people to carry them out. Being the Dragonborn wasn't the same as being a Queen of Meereen or Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. She didn't have an army of Unsullied willing to die for her. She didn't have a Dothraki horde behind her, and she didn't have three dragons backing her up. She had a small band of followers, who were very loyal, but she needed more. Jarl Balgruuf had named her Thane of Whiterun and thrown a feast in her honor. He had also assigned Lydia to her as a housecarl. However, he was reluctant to lend her much other support because she was widely known to be a Talos worshiper, and he was trying to stay neutral in the war. There was also the expectation that Nord heroes should do things themselves, or at least lead their own sworn band of followers.

So, Daenerys had decided to grow her forces. She needed more men, but more importantly, she needed more firepower. Unfortunately, Masters of Destruction did not grow on trees, so she had turned to more mundane alternatives – ballistae. A ballista was both slower to fire and did less damage than Faralda could. However, they did have better range and did not run out of magicka. Jarl Balgruuf wouldn't sell her any ballistae, nor would he build more himself. He did not want to make it appear that he was about to take an active part in the war. However, after some argument, he did agree to lend her some carpenters and siege engineers and permit her to construct two light ballistae herself. While she would have preferred more, it was a start. Trade had all but come to a halt because dragons were attacking trade caravans. The light ballistae were just the right size to mount on a wagon and cover with a tarp. Add a wagon or two for carrying supplies and hauling away loot, and she could hopefully lure dragons down for an ambush. At least that was the plan. She was all too aware how easily she had destroyed the Lannister army when they had relied on a small number of scorpions to defend their march. Dragons were fast and nimble flyers, and ballistae were hard to aim and slow to reload. Ballistae in large numbers were a threat to dragons. Two ballistae were targets that might hit back.

She also had to provide enough men to crew them. Light ballista required at least three men each to load and fire, but she wanted to have more trained. It would be easier to acquire more ballistae than people to man them. Which brought her back to needing to recruit more men. She had an abundance of people eager to swear to the Dragonborn, but few of them were warriors. Most of the warriors in Whiterun were either in service to Jarl Balgruuf or had rushed off to join the war. Jarl Balgruuf had flatly refused to allow any of his guards to leave his service. That meant she had to select from those who flocked to her banner, and most of them were simple peasant farmers. She sent them to Fultheim to test. While archers of Ull's caliber were rare, Skyrim was a wild place. Even in the vicinity of Whiterun, elk, wolves, and wild cats weren't uncommon. Some farmers supplemented their diet with wild game. Many others at least knew how to swing an axe or shoot a bow for protection from beasts and bandits. Daenerys had Fultheim test some of her eager applicants for archery skills and tasked him with turning them into a ballista crew. She also encouraged him to select up to a dozen that he felt had the potential to train as men-at-arms in her service. Fultheim turned most of them away. He had high standards in sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Daenerys didn't complain. She had learned the hard way that she couldn’t make every decision herself. One of the secrets to being a good leader was to pick good people and trust them. She trusted Fultheim. Besides, she wasn't trying to recruit an army. She needed men who could go into barrows and wouldn’t break and run when facing a dragon. Quality was more important than quantity.

That was what made Jenassa a great find. While it wasn't that unusual for peasants in Skyrim to know how to shoot a bow, most of them weren't highly skilled archers. According to Fultheim it took a decade to train a good archer, and even then most weren't as skilled as Ull. Since dragons could fly, she desperately needed skilled archers. She couldn't count on every dragon being as foolish as Mirmulnir. He could have easily won if he had just stayed in the air and strafed them with fire instead of landing to attack her. Jenassa’s bow skills were almost as good as Ull. She was even a little bit better at long ranges.

“Jenassa? Anything to add?”

“Not much. As Ull said, around two dozen men, and they are large men by the size of their feet.” Jenassa was also about as talkative as Ull, which was saying a lot.

Daenerys frowned. The timing was suspicious. Two dozen men just happened to descend upon Dustman's Cairn the day before they would arrive? It was too much to be a coincidence, and the Companions weren't exactly good at keeping secrets. The day after she had been accepted as a candidate people throughout Whiterun had congratulated for joining. Was someone planning to ambush her? No, that didn’t make sense. They would have hidden their tracks. Maybe it was some opportunist trying to grab the fragment of Wuuthrad before she did? The axe was legendary, but the broken pieces weren't worth much except to the Companions as relics of their founder Ysgramor. If someone did get the fragment before she did, the Companions would no doubt pay a lot for it. Greed was a common motivation. All of which would be good questions for Farkas, who wasn’t reporting in.

“Very well. We’ll leave in a couple of hours when the moons rise, just like we planned. We’ll have more light to see by and hopefully we’ll catch them sleeping. You can go until then. Would you send in Farkas?”

Ull dipped his head. “He didn’t return with us, Lady Targaryen. He decided to stay behind and watch the entrance while we reported.”

Daenerys wasn’t happy to hear that. While Farkas wasn’t sworn to her, they had discussed her plan to travel after moonrise and attack at night before he left. Skjor had given this mission to her. Farkas was supposed to observe, but he wasn’t doing that. Not that it would do any good to complain. As a member of the Circle, he even outranked even sworn Companions, let alone a newblood like her.

“Very well, you can still go. We’ll stick to the plan and leave at moonrise. You’re both dismissed until then.”

With that command Jenassa and Ull left.

Sofija moved around and bowed her head. “Do you need me, my thane? Lydia has the watch.” There was a slight hitch of eagerness in Sofija's usually calm voice.

“You can go until moonrise, Sofija," she replied. While Sofija would undeniably deny it, behind her mask she was still a young girl. Daenerys remembered what it was like to be eager to spend time with a lover.

After Sofija left, she turned to Faralda to share a knowing smile. However, Faralda had already returned to reading her book. With a sigh Daenerys returned to the _Art of War Magic_ , but she found it difficult to get back into the book. She wasn’t happy with Farkas. Was he deliberately trying to sabotage her mission? Or was it something else? Joining the Companions would benefit her greatly if she could pull it off, but she had both supporters and detractors. Farkas had initially been enthusiastic, but he had grown increasingly impatient during their journey to Dustman’s Cairn.

Joining the Companions hadn’t even been part of her plan. It had been a spur of the moment decision. She went to Jorvasskar to ask about hiring one or more Companions, not to join them. They were renown as Skyrim’s greatest warriors, and they could be hired to kill bandits, beasts, and monsters. The Companions had jumped to the conclusion that she was there to join and passed her up the chain until she reached the top. That’s when Kodlak Whitemane invited her to join.

She seized the opportunity with both hands. While Fultheim had proven adept at turning men into soldiers, it would take time. She desperately needed skilled warriors, and the Companions were supposed to be the greatest heroes in Skyrim. They were also the most expensive heroes in Skyrim, and they preferred to be paid by the mission. Their daily rate would have drained her coffers quickly, but she had been hoping she could bargain the price down. Joining them was an even better opportunity. The guiding principle of the Companions, ‘Every man his own. Every woman her own.’ seemed to offer her another way. If she could earn the respect of some of the Companions, some of them might simply choose to come with her – for free. At least that was her hope. Although after her first mission to the Falmer caves she could better afford to hire one or more Companions. Dwemer-metal was both rare and expensive and she still had more of it than she could sell.

Not to mention that becoming a Companion would greatly boost her reputation. The Companions were the custodians of Nord honor. Merely being allowed to train with them as a candidate was the equivalent of being a squire in Westeros. Actually joining them, would be the same as being knighted. She still remembered the hostile reception she received at Winterfell from both Sansa and the people. While the people of Whiterun were singing her praises now, she was not the Nord warrior they expected the Dragonborn to be. She was an outsider who used magic. Inevitably she would disappoint some people and that praise would sour. Being accepted by the Companions would send the message that she had the heart of a Nord, even if she was a short outlander who fought with magic.

Seeking to join the Companions didn’t even alter her long-term plans. She had already committed to staying in the vicinity of Whiterun for the next few weeks anyway: Fultheim needed time to find more recruits and train them, her two ballistae were under construction, and there were Nord barrows near Whiterun that she wanted to explore before leaving the area. She had even decided to extend her stay for a little longer after the Falmer caves. She had also swapped some of the dwemer-metal scrap from the Dwarven Centurion to Eorlund Gray-Mane. He was creating a custom-fitted set of skysteel plate armor for her in return. However, even the legendary master smith of the Skyforge needed two to three weeks to make a suit of plate armor.

Daenerys had expected that the Companions would throw her out after a few days when they realized she wasn’t really a warrior. However, she was both stronger and faster since she Devoured **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir**. While she was no match for her fellow Companions in terms of skill, she was no longer helplessly outmatched in any sort of physical combat. Vilkas switched her to using a mace and was personally tutoring her most mornings. To her surprise she was even enjoying the sessions. Not that she was giving up her magical training. While it wasn't a bad idea to have some skill at physical combat and not rely completely upon spells, she simply didn't have years to learn how to fight properly.

It was obvious to Daenerys that she was being groomed for membership even if she wasn’t a warrior maid. Many candidates waited for months, even years to get a mission like this one. Kodlak obviously wanted her to join, and she obviously had the blessings of the Circle as well. Vilkas was training her, and Skjor sent her on this mission. This mission was giving her a chance to impress Farkas, although she hadn’t had much success with that. While they hadn’t come out and said it, she had the feeling that if she brought back one of the missing pieces of Wuuthrad, that the Companions would admit her.

Daenerys shook herself out of her reflections and closed her copy of the _Art of War Magic_. She wasn’t getting any further with the book tonight, but if she wasn’t going to read she had better things to do than daydream. At the top of that list was practicing magic. She had been so busy of late that it was hard to find time to practice.

She really should spend more time experimenting with her Thu’um. She now knew a dozen words of primal power: **Fo** , Frost; **Fus** , Force; **Iiz** , Ice; **Mir** , Allegience; **Mul** , Strength; **Nir** , Hunt; **Ro** , Balance; **Shul** , Sun; **Toor** , Inferno; **Yol** , Fire; and **Zun** , Weapon. Three of those words spoke to her more than the others, **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** , Fire-Inferno-Sun. Those formed the Thu'um that dragons used to breathe fire. Those words felt like they were bound closely to her soul. Whether it was because **Yol** was the first Shout she learned, or because of her Targaryen heritage, she did not know. She did know that three was an important number for Shouting. **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** fit together so well to form a weapon. She had heard the ice dragon shout **Fo** -Krah-Diin, Frost-Cold-Freeze, and she was certain it was another triplet. Twice draugr lords had shouted a force triplet, of which she knew **Fus** - **Ro** , Force-Balance. She wasn't certain, but the last word was probably Dah, Push. There was also the triplet dragon names. **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** , Allegiance-Strong-Hunt and Al-Du-In, Destroy-Devour-Master. However, other than the feeling that three was an important number when it came to primal words, she didn't have a clue what it meant. Nor did that help her in how to use those words.

She had discovered that some words had effects by themselves. **Ro** , Balance, used by itself would grant her almost perfect balance for a short while. It had the added benefit of greatly improving her form when using weapons. While **Ro** lasted her strikes were a thing of beauty. Even though the feeling faded, she could still remember how she had moved. **Shul** , Sun, caused her body to shine brilliantly for a brief while, but she was pretty sure there was more to it than just light. **Shul** wasn’t just the heat and light of the sun. It was also the purity of it. **Mul** , Strength, could also be Shouted by itself. **Mul** had a surprising effect, cloaking her in ethereal armor for a brief while and making her both stronger and faster. However, it was also dangerous. It placed a strain upon her mortal body, and she knew trying to use it too frequently could kill her. Other words like **Mir** , Allegiance, and **Nir** , Hunt, simply didn't do much by themselves. There was an underlying grammar to the primal words. Some of them were verbs and needed a noun to define a target. Others didn't need a target to act.

However, now was not a good time to be Shouting. They were waiting until moonrise so they could hopefully take the bandits at Dustman's Cairn while they slept. Shouting repeatedly would be foolish. Just because they didn't have sentries standing guard outside, didn't mean they didn't have some people out scouting the area. Shouts were loud. Even if they weren't planning an ambush, Shouting repeatedly disturbed even her followers. She missed having the soundproofed Destruction practice room where she could Shout without attracting attention.

While she couldn’t Shout, she could still meditate on her Words. In addition to growing physically more capable, she seemed to have grown mystically as well. She had recently mastered a spell based on **Iiz** , Ice. It didn't work instantly like her Shout, but it did rapidly chill a target. So far, she had only been able to practice on inanimate objects, but she could freeze a tankard of water solid in a few seconds. Not that impressive considering her spell based on **Fo** , Frost could do the same. While she was pretty certain she could use it to subdue people without killing them, she really couldn’t confirm it short of trying it on someone. At least not by herself. Faralda had been good at finding ways to measure the effects of spells.

Daenerys stole a glance at Faralda. Unless she was mistaken Faralda had been staring at the same page for quite some time. “Faralda, I’m going to do some meditating now. I think I’ll work on the new spell, the one based on **Fus** and **Fo** to make a create Ice Spike.”

Faralda looked up briefly then returned to her book.

Daenerys had hoped that talking about Shout-based magic would draw Faralda out. Her mentor used to question her in detail about the process. Those days were gone. She missed Faralda’s advice, but she missed her friend even more. While she did enjoy the adoration of her followers, it also isolated her. Maybe that was another reason she was spending so much time with the Companions. While they respected her deeds, they weren’t in awe of her.

With a sigh Daenerys sat down on her bed to meditate. Ice Spike was an important spell to master. Most dragons breathed fire and using Firebolt against them would be stupid. Her Frost spell based on **Fo** was short-ranged. She needed a spell that could hurt a dragon in flight. She had managed to use her knowledge of **Fus** , Force, and **Yol** , Fire to make a Firebolt spell. Now she just had to replicate it with Force and Frost. She was making good progress and felt that the spell would work, but it just wasn’t there yet. She closed her eyes and meditated on **Fus** and **Fo** , Force pushing Frost out into the world. She still had more than an hour before moonrise.


	3. Chapter 2

# Chapter 2

Loredas, the 25th of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Once the moons had risen, Jenassa and Ull led them to Dustman’s Cairn. As its name implied, the entrance to the barrow was found at the center of a circle of stones set upon a hilltop. Within the stone circle, a staircase led down into a circular pit and to a door.

Farkas emerged from the shadows under the stairs when they arrived. “Took you long enough.” Farkas and Vilkas were close to identical in looks; they had the same face and the same build. They even wore the same wolf steel armor that all the Circle members wore. They both fought with identical two-handed swords. However, as soon as they spoke, it was easy to tell them apart. Vilkas was more reflective and thoughtful in his replies. Farkas spoke with a gruff, no-nonsense manner.

“We waited for moonrise. More light to see by, and hopefully they’ll be asleep.” While she was annoyed that he had altered their plan, she wasn’t in any position to complain. He was a representative of the Circle and more importantly he was here to report back to the Companions. So far it seemed his report would be favorable. He had no objections to her use of followers and tactics. He even got along well with her troops. He just didn’t have much patience for waiting around. “The important thing is we’re here now.”

“Then let's go.” Farkas opened the door and went straight on through.

Val waited for a nod from her before he followed. The rest of her party fell in line and they entered the crypt. Inside the entranceway of Dustman’s Cairn coffins and sarcophagi stood empty. Recently destroyed draugr were splayed on the ground not far from their former resting places. That was remarkably fast killing even for Farkas.

“Didn’t bother to save any draugr for us?” asked Daenerys.

“What? Oh, no. Someone got them first. Looks like they been digging too.” He gestured to where there were signs that someone had to move dirt and fallen debris to open up the passageway leading down. Farkas headed down the passageway without another word.

“Val, stay with him like we discussed.” She picked up the pace herself, but she was feeling frustrated. She had discussed her attack plans with Farkas and he agreed to them, but now he was ignoring them again. This was just like the attack on Fort Greymoor. Farkas had liked her plan to have her ranged attackers draw the bandits at Fort Greymoor to one wall while they came through a collapsed wall on the other side. However, once the battle started, he had rushed ahead cutting down bandits left and right. While his tactics had worked against the farmers turned bandit at Greymoor, against stronger enemies he could easily find himself outnumbered, or worse run headlong into a trap. Yet he had survived for years. Apparently, he was just that good. Fortunately, she had prepared after Fort Greymoor and modified her plans to take into account Farkas charging everything as soon as he spotted it. She had Val follow after him to make sure he had backup. She stationed Sofija and Lydia in the second rank, where they might be called upon to flank, stand aside for the casters, or defend as needed. Daenerys and Faralda came next in the middle of the formation with Ull and Jenassa bringing up the rear. It was similar to her old pincer attack plan but required her to quickly assess the situation to best deploy Lydia and Sofija.

As they ventured farther into the catacombs hostile draugr staggered out to attack them, but they also found the remains of many draugr that had been destroyed sometime before they arrived. Whoever had invaded Dustman’s Cairn had brought people who could handle themselves with draugr. That worried her; she preferred incompetent enemies over competent ones. In the narrow catacombs there often wasn't room for more than one person to fight. Farkas excelled at one-on-one fights, quickly cutting down draugr and not even pausing to loot. However, the catacombs were also a maze with many intersections. As Farkas charged ahead, they had to deal with other draugr attacking their flanks. Trying to keep up with him also meant they left unexplored passageways all around. Sometimes a draugr would stagger out from those passageways to threaten Ull and Jenassa.

Farkas kept getting farther and farther ahead, which really wasn’t surprising. Most of the draugr were weak and easily destroyed, but some of them were stronger, tougher, and more skilled. Val kept up with him for a while, but he got tied up with a particularly strong draugr while Farkas kept going. Lydia had to deal with another draugr on their left flank while most everyone else was stuck waiting because the corridors were too narrow.

“Everyone, halt. This isn't working. I can hear Farkas up ahead, but we can't even see him any longer. Val, stick with us. You take the front. Lydia, left-hand passageways. Sofija, right-hand passageways. We slow down and clear the whole area. I don't know who is up ahead, but the draugr are stirred up. I don't want to get in a fight with someone else and have draugr come creeping up and attack us from behind.”

“What about Farkas?” asked Val.

Daenerys shrugged. “He can obviously take care of himself.”

Once they stopped trying to keep up with Farkas, the fighting became much less chaotic. The corridors in the catacombs were still narrow with multiple intersections, but her followers worked together well. They would step aside on command allowing her and Faralda to cast spells. Faralda wasn’t holding back. Sometimes she completely obliterated a draugr with a single fire spell. Daenerys held back her Thu’um. With the noise of their fighting, it did not seem likely they would surprise whoever had broken into this barrow first. However, Shouting would certainly alert them. So, she stuck to Firebolts and trusted her warriors to finish the draugr off. In addition to draugr awake and alert, they also found the collapsed remains of recently destroyed draugr. Which of the no-longer-undead had been destroyed by Farkas and which by the others was impossible to tell. They had finally reached an area where the tunnel opened up as it sloped deeper into the barrow when the loud baying sound of a wolf came from further down below.

The howl sent shivers up her spine. She had been hunted and almost killed by wolves before outside the Temple of Azura. This took her back to that time and place. The howl sounded very close and from down the corridor ahead of them. “Hurry it up. Let's find Farkas.”

She didn't like hurrying through Nord barrows. Silverdrift with its many traps had taught her the folly of that. However, given that the unknown other party and Farkas had already been down this passage before them, any traps had most likely already been triggered. The shouts of men and the growling and snarling of a wolf had her encouraging her people to move quickly and link back up with Farkas.

The corridor ended at a room lit by silvery light, but they weren’t able to enter. A large portcullis blocked the entrance to the chamber. The room beyond looked like it had been set up for ritual combat. A large circle was sunken a few feet in the center of the room forming a combat arena. Two thrones sat one end overlooking the ring. A hole in the ceiling let the moonlight shine upon the room below. A battle was taking place lit by the silvery light of the moons. Three men with swords were fighting a raging, shaggy beast that stood on two legs but had the head of a wolf. Daenerys had heard tales of this beast and hadn’t been sure whether they were myth or fact. That had to be a werewolf, a creature that had once been a man but had been bitten by a werewolf and infected with lycanthropy. The result was the half-man half-wolf fighting before them - a vicious mad creature that lived to kill. She didn't see Farkas anywhere, but he might be dead already. There were two bleeding corpses on the floor, and as she watched the creature killed another man before her eyes, hitting him so hard that he flew across the room and slammed into the wall.

“Kill the beast!” she commanded. She had no idea who these other people were or why they were in Dustman's Cairn, but they were at least human. They could sort the rest out once the beast was dead.

However, issuing the command to kill it and doing so were two different things. Shouting or casting spells into a frantic melee like that would be just as likely to hit one of the humans. That became less of an issue after the werewolf ripped the throat out of one of the two remaining men. Daenerys risked a firebolt and hit it, but it didn't die. It didn’t even seem to be hurt that much. Faralda tossed one as well, but her aim was off. The werewolf slashed the last warrior standing and then turned and fled down the hallway beyond the room.

The last warrior turned to them. He had the tusks and green face of an Orsimer, and way too much blood was leaking from several claw marks. The orc would die if he wasn’t healed soon, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, he was smiling revealing more pointed teeth. “I drove him away, and more come to join our cause! The Silver Hand lives on! This is a good death. Death to the werewolves! Death to the-”

While the orc spoke to them, a naked Farkas rushed up from behind him. With one slice of his enormous sword, Farkas sliced his head off. “I piss on your good death,” growled Farkas at the corpse. Then he looked to the portcullis where Daenerys and everyone else was watching. “That’s not good.” He shook his head. “No, definitely not good. Give me a moment to find the release.” Farkas went over to a scattered pile of armor and started to get dressed.

Daenerys watched Farkas intently, and not because he was a naked man with an impressive display of muscles and scars. She didn’t need the mutters behind her to deduce the obvious – Farkas was the werewolf. The few stories that she had heard of werewolves had depicted them as no longer human. They were dangerous beasts that had to be put down. While Farkas was eager for combat, he clearly had the beast under control.

As she watched Farkas don his armor, she also realized that he wasn’t the only werewolf in the Companions. She very much doubted that Farkas had stopped to take off his armor when he had transformed, and he had been much larger as a werewolf than as a man. Yet, his armor was intact. As she watched him tighten the straps of his armor, she realized that the armor must have been designed to fall apart. Otherwise, Farkas would have either been crushed within his armor or more likely have broken the straps when he changed into the wolf. She had already known that the Circle wore custom armor, specially made by Eorlund Gray-Mane. That couldn’t be a coincidence. They even called the special armor wolf steel armor. She thought it was because of the wolves adorning the belt and collar, but obviously it had a deeper meaning. That must mean that all of the Circle: Skjor, Aela the Huntress, Farkas, and Vilkas were werewolves, as was Kodlak Whitemane himself. She had to wonder how much of their skill and strength due to being great warriors before they joined, and how much came from the beast.

Once Farkas was dressed he located a winch and raised the portcullis. “So, you saw.” He crossed his arms and glared at them. “No telling anyone. This is Companions business.”

Daenerys looked up at Farkas. “I’ll be the judge of that. So, you and everyone in the Circle are werewolves?”

“Yes. It's a blessing given to some of us. We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome,” he stated it proudly as if daring them to make something of it.

“Are you going to turn us into werewolves? Or kill us to keep the secret?”

He shook his head. “No, Vilkas and Kodlak are going to take turns kicking my ass, but we don’t kill witnesses. As for joining, Maybe you, someday. Only the Circle have the beastblood.”

“How long?” asked Daenerys.

“Until you join the Circle?” Farkas scoffed. “Prove your honor to be a Companion. Eyes on the prey, not the horizon.”

Daenerys shook her head. She hadn’t even been thinking about becoming a werewolf. “I meant, how long have the Circle been werewolves? All the way back to Ysgramor?”

“No, just a few hundred years. This is secret stuff, you all know that, right?”

Daenerys nodded. “Hundreds of years, that is enough of an answer – for now.” She looked at her followers. Sofija was stone-faced. The rest didn’t look happy. “If it’s been going on for hundreds of years, they obviously have it under control. We will talk about it after the fighting is done. There are still draugr to kill and those others, the Silver Hand.” She looked at Farkas. “Don’t suppose you know anything about them?”

“Bad people who don't like werewolves. So, they don't like us either.”

Daenerys tried to make that fit. Farkas called them bad people, but were they wrong to target werewolves? On the other hand, she knew many people thought daedra worshipers should be killed on sight, but Brelyna and many Dunmer worshiped the three good daedra. Did that mean there could be good vampires as well? This was such a crazy world, but now wasn’t the time to ask questions about werewolves. However, it was past time that she put her foot down about Farkas running off so much. “Now -”

“I have a question,” interrupted Faralda.

Daenerys turned to her mentor. Farkas could wait. Anything that brought Faralda out of her shell had to be important. “Yes?”

“Would becoming a werewolf cure scars?” asked Faralda

That sentence was more than Faralda had spoken since the fight with **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** , which was a good sign. Unfortunately, Daenerys knew the answer before Farkas even replied. Farkas had numerous scars on his body and Skjor was blind in one eye.

“No. The wolf heals faster. You don’t get many new scars. Old ones stay.”

Faralda gave a tiny nod but said nothing.

“No more questions? Good. Let's go.”

“No,” said Daenerys. She was done with Farkas running off. She should have put a stop to it before, but she was ending it now.

“No?” asked Farkas with a growl. “What else?"

“Why did Skjor call this my trial?”

“I told you. I watch you to make sure you're honorable. If you are honorable and strong, I can call you sister.”

“But you haven’t been doing that. How can you watch me when you keep leaving me behind?”

Farkas fumed. “You’re slow. You talk too much. While we talk, the Silver Hand are trying to snatch Wuuthrad out from under us.”

She understood that Farkas was impatient at the best of times. It didn’t help that Wuuthrad was basically a holy relic to the Companions. It was the shattered weapon of Ysgramor who had founded the Companions. This was a very important mission to the Companions – one that had been given to her. She wasn’t backing down. “Is this your mission or is it mine?”

Farkas pulled himself up to his full height so he loomed over her. “Do you think you’re in charge, whelp?”

“Yes. I am.” Daenerys gazed at him calmly. It wasn’t the first time a man tried to use his height to intimidate her. Farkas was impressive as a warrior. As a werewolf he had been terrifying. However, he was not scarier than a dragon. If he tried to use force, she could freeze him in place with **Iiz**. “This is my trial. My chance to prove myself. Stop being the kind of brother who won’t let their sisters use blades because they might cut themselves.”

Farkas threw back his head and laughed. “I know better than to keep a shield sister from a fight. Fine. I get it. Vilkas is telling me all the time to stick with the pack. It’s your hunt. I’ll follow.” He gave a little bow. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you,” Daenerys dipped her head a little at his acceptance. “Farkas, would you please swap with Sofija? I know you’re deadly with that blade, but I want you to see how we fight. That will put you in the middle and you can watch everything”

“Fine, but you better speed it up.” Although this time there was more respect in his tone.

“Val and Sofija, front rank," commanded Daenerys. “Faralda and I will be second rank. Lydia, you’re with Farkas behind us. Jenassa and Ull, you're bringing up the rear. Now let’s go.”

She wasn't sure if Farkas had been testing her, but he settled into formation as she directed without complaint.

The rest of Dustman's Cairn went much more smoothly as far as Daenerys was concerned. Other than the presence of the Silver Hand, Dustman's Cairn was similar to other barrows they had cleared, dark, dangerous, and full of draugr. Just to mix things up there were occasionally traps, skeevers, and spiders. The draugr were less deadly than the Silver Hand warriors they encountered.

The Silver Hand was a cut above any of the bandits that she had faced before. Bandits fought as individuals, and often broke and fled as soon as she and Faralda started tossing fire at them. The Silver Hand didn’t give up. They were stubborn, determined, and almost fanatical in their hatred. Even when Faralda fried one of their number they kept charging and bellowing war cries: “Kill all the beasts!” “Every infected must die!” “You betrayed Ysgramor!” While she had some sympathy with their goal of putting down werewolves, she had no issues killing people who were trying to kill her. While they obviously knew the Companions could control their beasts, they still attacked on sight. Which was a pity. She could have used warriors like them.

It was a good thing that she had her showdown with Farkas. The Silver Hand weren’t only more determined, they were better organized. They lay in ambush in various rooms and used tactics. They tried to flank her men, and they used archer support. While Farkas charging ahead might have thrown off their tactics, she was much more comfortable using him as a reserve and sending him where support was needed. Daenerys found herself relying on Shouting despite the noise it made. **Iiz** could freeze a man in place with a single word making it easy to run him through with a sword. **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** was as devasting as any of Faralda’s spells, perhaps even more powerful.

As they fought their way deeper into Dustman’s Cairn, she noticed something else unusual about the men of the Silver Hand – they weren’t all Nords. They weren’t even all men. They had quite a few Orsimer in their number. She also noticed that a few of the Nords had a greenish tint to their skin and sharp teeth. Daenerys had heard that when men and mer had children, the child usually resembled the mother, perhaps with a few traits of the father. The evidence of children of mixed blood implied that at least this branch of the Silver Hand had a history of Nords and Orcs working together for generations.

After fighting past multiple Silver Hand ambushes, they reached a section of the barrow that contained a lot of Silver Hand corpses and lots of draugr. After that, they encountered no more of the Silver Hand. Daenerys still had Ull and Jenassa keeping an eye on their back while they pressed on. Eventually, they came to a large locked pair of iron doors. While they were intricately carved in the Nord style, the doors weren’t magically trapped. Farkas and Val attacked the lock with picks, and eventually smashed in the mechanism. Daenerys shouted **Fus** - **Ro** into the hole that created, and the doors shuddered in response. Val and Farkas were finally able to pry the doors open.

The room beyond was a large central chamber. Stairs climbed up to a raised platform with a prominent alter. A Word Wall was visible at the far end.

“Wuuthrad,” said Farkas in awe and started up the stairs.

“Wait!” cried Daenerys. “The sarcophagi.” She gestured to the walls which were lined with dozens of the upright stone coffins. “The altar is probably trapped to wake the draugr."

Farkas turned around. “Heh. Guess we should do something about that. You got a plan?"

Daenerys smiled broadly, it seemed her speech had really gotten through. “Of course, I do. We pry open some by the door. If we do wake the others, they at least won't be able to surround us."

“Simple," agreed Farkas. “I like it."

Prying open a sarcophagus was much easier than opening the door. As soon as they did a draugr staggered out only to fall to the axes of Faraks and Val. Even as it fell the sound of stone shifting filled the chamber. Several draugr pushed the lids off their sarcophagi and came out to attack. The battle that followed was lopsided. The draugr emerged in wave after wave only to be destroyed; whoever had set these draugr as guards had favored quantity over quality. The draugr were dangerous, but none of them were draugr lords. Daenerys and Faralda were able to blast several of the slow-moving creatures apart from a distance. Farkas took apart the remainder quite easily with a little bit of assistance from Sofija and Val. After defeating several waves there were no more draugr left.

“That was fun,” said Farkas once the last draugr was destroyed. He started up the steps and then he paused. “Hey newblood, it's your mission. You take it."

“Thank you, Farkas.” Daenerys claimed the fragment of Wuuthrad feeling pleased. She really didn't care that much about the pieces, but the Companions did. Whatever Farkas reported would also matter, and she seemed to have earned his approval. Given the importance of Wuuthrad to the Companions, this would hopefully be enough to see her invited to join. That would open the possibility of recruiting some of the Companions to come with her, and that was the real treasure in her mind.

Or more accurately one of the treasures. The other was the Word Wall... although this one was silent. “That's peculiar. I don't hear any chanting.” She should be close enough. Daenerys advanced on the wall and read the message. It was a memorial to King Jafnhar who was burned alive by a dragon. “Oh, I already know this word." That was disappointing.

“What's this about words? asked Farkas.

“Ancient Nord Word Walls, like this one, contain Words of Power for those who have the talent to learn them. I have a gift for learning Shouts. Sofija can feel a vibration, and Ull can even hear chanting if he presses his ear against the word."

“Huh. I have to give that a try."

Daenerys backed away as everyone crowded around the Word Wall. She tried to stay back at these times. It left her feeling like she had drank all the wine and left everyone else with empty cups. While everyone took turns she started examining some of the enchanted items they found. She still wasn't good at reading enchantments, but she would only get better with practice. A high-pitched feminine squeal brought her attention back to the Word Wall.

“I feel it!” yelled Faralda. “I can feel it buzz like an angry wasp when I touch it." Her stoic mentor, a sober and decorous Altmer hundreds of years old who hadn't spoken more than a handful of words since the dragon attack, suddenly broke into excited bouncing and dancing like a young girl. Abruptly she halted and turned to face Daenerys. “What word is this?”

Daenerys held back happy tears as she replied. “It's **Yol** , Fire.”


	4. Chapter 3

# Chapter 3

Middas, the 29th of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the 4th Era

When Daenerys returned to Jorrvaskr a few days later, she was immediately directed to the training ground. As she headed in that direction, all of the Companions began gathering. Many of them stopped to congratulate her on retrieving Wuuthrad.

Farkas came up behind her and slapped her on the back. “About time you got here, whelp. I arrived two days ago. Did you bring the iron doors back with you?”

“No, we left the doors, but we took most everything else.” And it would be worth a lot provided she could sell it. In addition to the usual assortment of weapons, armor, and miscellaneous enchanted items, most of the Silver Hand warriors had carried silver swords or greatswords. Most of them were also enchanted for sharpness. They weren’t very good enchantments, but silver weapons would quickly lose their edge without magic.

Farkas shook his head. “You know that honor is worth more than gold.”

“So, I can keep your share then?”

He laughed. “Now, I didn’t say that! Come on, everyone is going to be waiting on us.”

Daenerys followed Farkas outside. Sofija and Lydia followed behind her but stayed by the door when they saw that all the Companions had gathered outside. Kodlak Whitemane stood waiting with the Circle gathered around him. Daenerys felt a thrill of excitement. From the mood of the gathering, there was no chance she was about to be thrown out, so they must be gathering to induct her. Farkas guided her to stand in front of the gathered Companions and facing the Circle. He stood beside her. Daenerys held herself as she would while holding court, controlled, and dignified.

Kodlak raised a hand and an expectant hush fell upon the gathering. “Brothers and Sisters of the Circle, today we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured, has challenged, and has shown her valor. Who will speak for her?”

Farkas promptly replied, “I stand witness for the courage of the soul before us.”

“Would you raise your shield in her defense?” asked Kodlak.

“I would stand at her back that the world might never overtake us.”

“And would you raise your sword in her honor?”

“It stands ready to meet the blood of her foes.”

“And would you raise a mug in her name?”

“I would lead the song in triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories.”

“Then the judgment of this Circle is complete. Her heart beats with fury and courage that have united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers. Let it beat with ours, so the mountains may echo and our enemies may tremble at the call.”

Every gathered Companion shouted back in reply, “It shall be so!”

Then the celebration began. While the Companions accepted other races into their number, they followed Nord tradition, so it wasn’t surprising that the celebration involved drinking, feasting, drinking, bragging, drinking, fistfights, and more drinking. From the way the younger serving maids were eager to be pulled into a warrior’s lap, it would likely involve some wenching as well. While Daenerys didn’t really enjoy drinking heavily, she knew that not participating would be remembered. She tried to space out her drinking, but every time her flagon was even half-empty a servant promptly refilled it. Before long she was pleasantly tipsy.

To fill the time while the drinking was going on, stories were shared. As she was the one being honored she was asked to recite both the ‘battle’ of Dustman’s Cairn and her attack on the bandits of Fort Greymoor. However, that wasn’t enough. They also wanted to hear her tell about her defeat of **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** again. She told the stories when they were demanded, but she tried to emphasize the bravery of her followers rather than her own actions.

“Those tactics, you didn’t come up with them on the spur of the moment. You’ve fought dragons before haven’t you lass?” asked Vilkas

“Not really. I just know dragons. Before Tamriel I only fought one before.” She wanted to take the words back as soon she spoke them because they got too much attention.

“What?” asked Farkas. “You fought another dragon before Murmurmur?! Or whatever his name was? Tell us!”

All the Companions started pounding their fists on the table and demanding the story.

Daenerys set her mead down. She had obviously had enough to drink to make such a slip. Now she would have to say something. Panic and anger made her head clearer. While she hadn’t intended to say anything about her past, maybe this was for the best. She wanted to attract Companions to join her cause. This feast was in her honor. Would there be a better time?

“Very well, I’ll tell the story.” Daenerys stood up as was the custom when bragging about one’s deeds. “This is not my story, although I am part of it, and I did do battle with a dragon. This is a story of the Night King. Do you wish to hear the story?”

“Tell!” “Night King!” “Tell us!” “Tell us!” “Tell us!”

Daenerys stepped up and onto her chair to gain some height and began. “I’m no bard or teller of tales, so have patience with me. Before I begin, I must tell you a little about my home. I’m not from Tamriel, Atmora, or Akavir. I’m from a land far beyond. It’s a land divided into two continents separated by the Narrow Sea. Essos, the land of the east, and Westeros, the land of the west. Each is smaller than Tamriel, but combined together they are larger.

“In the land of Essos there once lived dragons, but these are not the same dragons that you know of here in Tamriel. They are cousins. Similar in nature, but different, like a wolf to a dog, or a horse to a pony. Our dragons were not immortal beings of Aetherius, but beings of flesh and blood. They laid eggs, grew up, and could die of old age. They were clever and dangerous, but they could not Shout nor could they speak.” Although now that she knew dragons in Tamriel had their own language, she wondered if her own dragons had been smarter than she had ever realized.

“We did not have a legend of a Dragonborn. Dragons were tamed by men in Old Valyria. They built an empire that lasted thousands of years until it was ended by the Doom of Valyria. Only one noble house survived, House Targaryen. With just three dragons Aegon Targaryen conquered all of Westeros, but that is another story. You wanted to hear of when I did battle with the Night King and his dragon…”

Daenerys paused. Where to start the story? Everyone was listening to her raptly. “It was a time of civil war. The kingdoms were divided. Most of them acknowledged the authority of the rightful queen, but an usurper held the capitol. War had waged for years, the people and land weakened by it, and that is when the Night King chose to strike.

“The largest of the kingdoms of Westeros was simply called ‘The North’. The Kingdom of the North is a land much like Skyrim, wild and untamed. The Northmen are so much like Nords that they could be your long-lost brothers. They are known for being stubborn, independent, and fierce in battle. They are not meek followers, but they can be led by those who earn their respect.

“But in Westeros there is a land beyond ‘the North’, a land like Atmora, almost always frozen and inhabited only by the Wildlings who will call no man king and the White Walkers. The White Walkers are akin to draugr lords, but they have the power to raise the dead and have them serve their will. Not necromancers as you know them. They could raise all the dead, and their leader was an immortal thousands of years old. A being called the Night King. Like all White Walkers his skin was cold and frozen with glowing eyes of blue. The White Walkers were held back by the Wall. The Wall was hundreds of miles long and hundreds of feet tall and it was a barrier both physical and magical, but in the midst of the civil war the Night King breached the wall and marched south with an army of the dead killing every living creature in his path.

“In the fortress city of Winterfell, the living gathered to make their last stand against the armies of the dead and the Night King. What remained of the Northmen gathered there, but they did not fight alone. The knights of the Vale, the Unsullied, and the Dothraki horde came to stand beside them. I came as well, and with me I brought my two remaining dragons.”

She smiled at the gasps of breath. “Yes, I commanded dragons. The last three dragons in all the kingdoms: Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. Dragons that I hatched and raised. Dragons I fed from my own hand. Dragons that I rode through the skies and into battle.” She couldn’t help feeling pain at the next part. “But Viserion had already fallen to the Night King in a battle beyond the Wall. The Night King did it with a single spear hurled with such force that it pierced dragonscale doing a mortal blow, and in death the Night King claimed him. Viserion was a dragon of fire. When he rose from the dead under the command of the Night King he became a dragon of ice.”

Everyone was listening with rapt attention from the servants to Kodlak Whitemane. So intent were they on listening that they weren’t even drinking.

“The battle of Winterfell is a saga all its own. Many a brave man died that day fighting the army of the dead, an army that would die and rise to fight again under the power of the Night King. In that battle every man that fell, was lost to the Night King, rising to fight against the living. It was the last stand of the living against the dead, but I saw little of that battle. My battle was in the skies. I rode Drogon into battle. My nephew, Jon Snow, rode Rhaegal. It is a battle like none I have ever known. It happened on an overcast night. We were three dark shadows playing hide-and-go-find in the skies above Winterfell.

“How to describe that battle? Listening, feeling, watching for the blue flame of Viserion, and wondering if instead he would find me. Hearing the cries of the men below. Sometimes I paused my quest for the Night King to strafe the dead with dragonfire. Which helped the battle but betrayed my position. I watched as Viserion did battle with Rhaegal, and they mauled each other like two cats in a bag. My feeling of victory at knocking the Night King off Viserion and blasting him with dragonflame… He was a creature of ice, and a Seer had told us that dragonfire might have the power to defeat him. However, the seer was wrong. The Night King stood there amidst the flames, untouched, unharmed, and called more of the dead back to life.”

Perhaps she should have lied and claimed that she killed the Night King, but she couldn’t steal the credit from the true hero. “I told you that this was not my story. Yes, I fought against a dragon, my own child. I tried to kill the Night King, but I failed. The armies died in their thousands. The walls of Winterfell were breached, and the dead poured into the city, and even the power of a dragon at my command did little to stem the flood of the dead.

“We did have another plan. We knew that White Walkers were vulnerable to dragonglass, which you call ebony in Tamriel. The kiss of an ebony weapon would cause a White Walker to shatter like glass. We hoped that an ebony blade could kill the Night King as well, but no one could stand up to him in combat. Wherever he went out strongest warriors died, then rose again to serve the Night King. We tried ebony arrows, but he snatched the arrows out of the air. Such was his power. He killed even the strongest men with contempt. No one could even lay a blow upon him. The fortress fell and was overrun. Everywhere the dead were overcoming the living.

“When all seemed lost a lone warrior maid charged the Night King from behind having fought her way through to him. He heard her and turned swifter than a serpent striking. He caught her by the right hand before she could strike. He thought her helpless. He paused for a mere moment to gloat. In that moment she dropped her dragonglass blade from her right hand, caught it in her left, and stabbed him in the heart. Thus, ended the Night King. With his death the souls of all in his thrall were released, and the dead lay still once more.”

“Her name was Arya Stark. She is the hero of that battle, not me. Her bravery saved every man, woman, and child in Westeros, perhaps in all the world. If you ever tell this story, speak her name, let it never be forgotten.” With that Daenerys sat down. The telling of the story took more of a toll on her than she had expected.

“Arya Stark,” said Vilkas as he stood and held up a flagon holding it the air but not drinking yet. “May her name never be forgotten.”

One-by-one each of the Companions stood up, lifted their mug, and said her name. “Arya Stark.”

The last to rise was Kodlak Whitemane himself. “Arya Stark. May her name never be forgotten.” He drank and all the Companions drank with him.

The celebration continued, but Daenerys wasn’t much in a mood take part in it. The telling of the battle brought all the memories of her past life back to her, and she was no longer in the mood to celebrate. As soon as she was no longer the center of attention, she took her leave. However, as she departed Kodlak Whitemane approached her and asked for a few words. She obviously couldn’t turn down the Harbinger, so she followed him to his table outside his room.

Kodlak settled into his chair and motioned her to sit in the other. “That was some story. You know it will be all over Whiterun within a week.”

Daenerys nodded her head as she sat down. “Of course, but there are already so many rumors about my past. I’m the long-lost descendant of Tiber Septim, an Atmoran, an escaped slave from Akavir, and many more. Those are the tame ones. The truth might as well compete with the fiction, although many won’t believe it.”

Kodlak nodded. “You have the right of that. It’s a remarkable story. The Night King is the most believable part of it. The part about you riding a dragon, that will be disputed.”

Daenerys shrugged. “They will believe what they believe.”

“What interested me was what was left out of the story. Who was the rightful queen of Westeros?”

Daeneys met Kodlak’s gaze. Beneath his war-like exterior was a sharp mind. She looked behind her and saw only Lydia. “Before I came here, I was known as Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Uncrowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.”

“That’s a mouthful,” said Kodlak. “I’ll just keep calling you Daenerys.”

Daenerys laughed and was surprised that it came out as a high-pitched giggle. “Yes, it is a mouthful.” And she was already collecting more titles: Thane of Winterhold, Thane of Whiterun, and the Dragonborn.

“Yet, you didn’t claim those titles. Wise of you. They also don’t matter here. You’re one of us. All equal.”

Ah, was this why he wanted to talk to her? “I know. I value that equality. Being a queen is surprisingly lonely.”

“Is that why you wanted to join the Companions?”

“No, that was an unexpected surprise and a pleasant one. Being part of this brotherhood feels good.” She looked back at Lydia. “No complaints about your service, Lydia. I value your faithfulness just as much.”

Lydia nodded. “Thank you, my thane.”

“Then why did you join?” asked Kodlak.

“I had two reasons. First, I’m expected to kill dragons. I was lucky with **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** , but I can’t rely upon luck. I need skilled warriors. I was hoping that some Companions would want to help me.” She had no problem admitting it to Kodlak because she was sure he already knew.

Kodlak nodded. “I’m sure some will. Although they won’t swear to you.”

Daenerys shrugged. “I don’t care if they swear as long as they can follow a plan in a fight and don’t get others killed.”

“Some won’t like that. Most will have no problem with it. Be sure you put it to them just like that. That following the plan is about not getting others killed, and they’ll listen.”

“I will.”

“And your other reason for joining?”

“Legitimacy. I’m not the brawny axe-swinging Dragonborn the Nords of Skyrim expected. I’m a short magic-wielding outsider.”

“But the people love you. You could challenge Jarl Balgruuf to a duel, name yourself Jarl, and the nobles and the people would do nothing but cheer.” His spoke like he was setting a trap and waiting for her to take the bait.

Daenerys shrugged. “Perhaps I could, but it’s not that simple. The people never stop expecting more from their heroes and their rulers. For now they chant my name, but that wouldn’t last if I sat on a throne and did nothing more about the dragons. You’re also assuming that I want a throne.”

“Don’t you?” asked Kodlak.

“No, I don’t.” Daenerys was surprised to find that was the truth. It felt like either the gods or circumstances would take that choice from her, and she would be forced to take a more active role in politics, but that was a worry for another day. For now, leading her small company of followers and trying to kill dragons was more than enough for her. “Now, I would like to ask a question. You’ve backed me all the way. Why did you want me in the Companions?”

“Because,” said Kodlak. “The Companions were originally the greatest heroes of Skyrim and not just the greatest warriors, because fighting dragons is something that great heroes should do, and because the gods obviously stand behind you. You are the hope of Skyrim. If you are not fit to be a Companion, none of us are.” He fell silent for a moment and then continued. “And because of the beastblood.”

“You mean that the Circle is made up of werewolves?”

“Yes. Farkas reported back that you and your followers witnessed him fighting as a werewolf. How much did he tell you?”

“Not much. That it was a gift. That it went back centuries. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

Kodlak nodded. “Let me tell you the whole story. It started hundreds of years ago with a previous harbinger. He was a good but short-sighted man. He made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. If the Companions would hunt in the name of their lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power. He didn’t know the change would be permanent. The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But we had been deceived. The truth is that not everyone can control the beast. Some lose control. They let the best win, and they become like the feral werewolves of stories. We put those down, but that’s not the worst part. Even if we master the wolf, Hircine claims our souls. We don’t go to Sovngarde. An eternity in the Hunting Grounds awaits us when we die. Skjor and Aela don’t even care. An eternity of hunting prey appeals to them.”

“I didn’t know that.” That the afterlife was proven to exist had been shocking enough to her when she learned it. However, there was a great difference of opinion about what happened to your soul after death. Some claimed that all you needed to do was be faithful to the gods, and they would guide your soul to Aetherius. The Nords believed that how you faced death mattered most, and only the worthy would enter Sovngarde. She had heard that Daedra claimed the souls of their worshipers. She also heard the Daedra claimed the souls of the wicked. However, what Kodlak was describing didn’t seem fair. Get bitten by a werewolf and Hircine gets your soul? Although the world wasn’t fair. Why would the afterlife be any different? It wasn’t something that was pleasant to dwell upon. If she was judged based upon her deeds, she was in for an unpleasant afterlife. On the other hand, she had already been judged. The gods had already set her a task, at least that was what Grandfather had believed.

Daenerys shook her head. “Sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment. So, is there nothing that can be done to free your soul?”

“I have been searching for a cure for a long time without success. Perhaps if we could find the Glenmoril witches, but I’m not sure where to find them, or even if their coven still exists. They have a deservedly unsavory reputation. They may have been hunted down and destroyed.”

While Daenerys understood that finding a cure was a matter of urgency for Kodlak, what did it have to do with her? Oh, of course. “And you think that I can help cure you?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know how, but clearly you are sent by the gods. I don’t mean to lay another burden upon you, but you don’t plan to stay in Whiterun long do you?”

“No, another week, two at most.”

“Then just keep your ears open. Maybe the gods will lead you to the Glenmoril Coven, maybe you will find another way. Maybe I’m an old fool.”

“No, you might have been fooled by Hircine, but you are no fool.” She had no clue how she could possibly help, but it was just one more thing to add to her list. “If I can do anything, I will. What have you tried? I would expect that the Temple of Kynareth would be the first place to start.” After all, Kynareth was the goddess of nature and most directly opposed to Hircine.

“I tried. I’ve spoken with the High Priestess, Danica Pure-Spring, in confidence. She suggested that we repudiate Hircine, forsake his gift, and remain human. Vilkas, Farkas, and I are trying to follow that advice, but the wolf still has its teeth sunk into our souls.” Kodlak went on to describe how he sought a solution in alchemy and enchanting without success. “If there is a cure, I believe it lies with the witches. Nothing else has worked. I also believe you will succeed where I have failed.”

Daenerys sighed. “If I can help, I will, that’s all I can do. I can’t perform miracles.”

Kodlak started laughing. “You already have. Destroying that dragon with the handful of men you had? That was a miracle. The gods have chosen you Daenerys of the many titles. They brought you here for a reason. Or haven’t you looked at the sky lately?”

“I’ve seen the bloody comet.” She sighed. “I’ll try, but I don’t know what I can do. I’ll ask Faralda, but she’s a Mistress of Destruction. I doubt she’ll know much about curses like this one.” But maybe she would have heard something about the witches, or… “You know, I may have another lead. Have you heard of the dark cabal of magicians that have holed up in Ilinalta’s Deep?”

Kodlak sat up straighter. “No, I have not. You think they may be the Glenmoril Witches?”

“No,” replied Daenerys with a shake of her head. “But where do they corrupt mages recruit their followers? Perhaps they might know about the Glenmoril coven. If I take any prisoners, I’ll ask.”

“Good, good. It’s a thread, but if we pull enough threads we’ll unweave the tapestry. You give a tired old man hope. The gods have guided you here, and they will continue to find you. You’ll find the scent, and then the trail, and we will break the curse upon the Companions.” He wearily pushed himself to his feet. “But not tonight. I’m a tired old man and I need my rest. Goodnight, Daenerys.”

Daenerys stood and nodded back to him. “Good night, Kodlak.” She watched as he left to his room. “Come on, Lydia. I should get to sleep as well. I have to be up at dawn tomorrow to practice.” And she needed her sleep. She had an awful lot to get done in the next few weeks.


	5. Chapter 4

# Chapter 4

Turdas, the 30th of Rain's Hand, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Despite the heavy drinking of the night before, Daenerys still had Sofija wake her at dawn to practice with Vilkas. She knew that she would never be a warrior, but Shouting drained her magicka quickly. She needed a backup. Combat skills had saved her life during her duel with Thaena. She simply couldn't rely upon magic alone. It also didn't hurt her standing with the Companions. While they had drank and feasted in her honor, she still didn't fit the mold. Being seen training in physical combat showed that she was trying to be the kind of hero the expected, and morning was the best time to be seen. While Companions could be found training on the practice ground throughout the day, almost all of them started the day with at least a couple of rounds of dueling before breaking for breakfast. Although there weren't many Companions present this morning. Skjor and Aela were dueling. Farkas was coaching Ria and that was it. Usually, most of the Companions could be found training first thing in the morning. Although considering the heavy drinking the night before, she should have expected the smaller turnout. It was interesting that the entire Circle was present. Apparently being a werewolf helped with hangovers.

Vilkas was waiting when she arrived at the practice ground. “About time you got down here. You're no longer a newblood, but you still have piss-poor combat skills for a Companion. I'm only going to be harder on you now.”

“What, you were going easy on me before?” The boastful banter that delighted Nords did not come easily to her, but she was getting better at it. She strapped on her buckler. The small shield wasn't that good for blocking, but it had the advantage of being strapped to her left forearm. That left her left hand open so she could still cast spells. Vilkas had agreed that she was a spellsword and spells were part of her weaponry. For safety reasons she stuck to casting Shove while dueling. Vilkas made a point to avoid the spell anyway because in real combat she would likely be casting a much more lethal spell. Although she had yet to connect with her spell.

Vilkas opened by attacking as usual and it was all she could do to keep up. He wielded his two-handed sword as if it weighed no more than a toothpick and pressed his attacks relentlessly. It was all she could do to block his blows. The few times she tried to cast Shove, he immediately batted her arm aside with a blow to her buckler. His control was inhuman. When she failed to stop a strike, he would halt his blow and barely hit her. Their practice duels also demonstrated over and over that if a warrior could get within sword range of a mage, then that mage would likely be dead soon. Of course, mages knew that. Battlemages wore full plate armor, and mages in general preferred to fight from a distance.

After their opening daily duel, Vilkas shifted Daenerys to practicing with Sofija. That was a much fairer fight, but Daenerys was still outmatched in hand-to-hand combat by her housecarl. Sofija's conjured blades hit hard. They were also the reason she used a steel buckler instead of a wooden or leather shield. While Sofija was not a member of the Companions, Vilkas also offered her some coaching and advice while Daenerys sparred with her in the mornings. He did the same for Lydia the one time she had trained under Vilkas in the evening.

Lydia missed the morning lessons because she was usually sleeping. Sofija and Lydia had agreed among themselves that one of them would be awake to guard her at all times. Lydia watched over her until the second hour of the morning when Sofija traded places for her. A part of her felt this was unnecessary, especially within the halls of Jorrvaskr. However, Fultheim believed that the Thalmor would certainly send assassins after her sooner or later, so it was better to practice vigilance even when it seemed unnecessary. After all, she was not surrounded by thousands of fanatically loyal Unsullied on this world, and even on Planetos assassins had still made attempts on her life.

The sun was well over the horizon, and Daenerys was drenched with sweat when she noticed the approach of a young girl wearing a tattered dress.

“Lady Dragonborn! Lady Dragonborn!” cried the urchin. “I have a letter for you! It’s from Jesper the guard. He gave me two whole septims to see that I delivered it to your hand!”

Daenerys backpedaled from her fight. When Sofija nodded and lowered her weapon she turned to face the beggar child. She looked familiar. “Lucia?”

“You remember me!” She dropped an awkward curtsey and almost fell over.

Daenerys held back laughter. While the child was undoubtedly cute, she obviously wasn’t thriving on the streets. Her cheeks had lost the roundness of youth and she had hollows under her eyes, clear signs that she wasn’t getting enough to eat. “Sit down. Have some of our food, there is plenty of it.” That was certainly true. The Companions ate well. The servants made sure food was always present both in the dining hall and on the patio behind Jorrvaskr that overlooked the training grounds.

“Really?!” gasped the child. “Oh, thank you!!” She rushed the table and started grabbing food as if she was afraid it might disappear.

“Just this once,” said Vilkas in a gruff voice. He approached Daenerys and lowered his voice. “Your heart may be in the right place, but we can’t go feeding the beggars or they’ll swarm our table.”

Daenerys nodded. “I know.” She had more gold now, but she also had more expenses. She didn’t go around feeding every beggar in the street, because she couldn’t afford to do it. Still, while she couldn’t help every street urchin, maybe she could help this one. “I’ll speak with her.”

“Good. As long as it doesn’t happen again. Same time tomorrow?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I’m making a trip to Riverwood. I’ll be gone for two or three days.”

Vilkas frowned. “You and your errands. You need more practice time if you want to improve.”

“I know. I thank you for the training, but I have many demands upon my time.” She dropped a slight curtsey out respect. That wasn't a Companion thing, but she wasn't just a Companion. After Vilkas waved a goodbye in return, she went to the table where Lucia was still stuffing food into her mouth as fast as she could. “Lucia? You have a letter for me?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she reached into a beltpouch and brought out a crumpled letter.

Daenerys took it and read the letter from Jesper.

> Daenerys Targaryen, the Unburnt, Dragonborn, and Thane of Whiterun,
> 
> I have heard that you are recruiting men to fight dragons. I asked to leave the guard but was told by my commander that the jarl had forbidden it. I think Jarl Balgruuf’s afraid the entire guard would desert and flock to your banner. He might be right. Still, I believe I have a man who would be interested in your service. I’m sure you have noticed the Redguards standing by the main gate. They’re looking for some Redguard noblewoman, but don’t have a warrant or any valid bounty to arrest her, so they’ve been denied entrance. One of them tried to sneak over the wall two nights ago and got caught. He’s now languishing in the dungeon. I was on guard duty and spoke to him a little. Apparently, he is now dishonored because he was caught. Which means he can return to neither his mercenary band, nor his home. Doesn’t seem like there would be any Redguards left in Hammerfell if they throw you out for one mistake. Glad I’m a Nord. The point is he doesn’t have a home any longer. If you paid his fine, I’m sure he’d be glad to join your cause. What could be more honorable than fighting dragons?
> 
> Jesper

“Hmm, interesting.” She handed the note to Sofija. “What do you think? I don’t know much about Redguards.” Malak, their spellsword instructor, was the only one she’d ever really spoken to, and even then only student to mentor. He did make quite an impression.

“Redguards do have odd ideas about honor and hold themselves to high standards. I doubt he was lying about not being able to go home. He may indeed be willing to join.”

“Looks like we’ll be paying the jarl’s prison a visit.” She glanced at Lucia who had finally stopped eating and caught her slipping some boiled eggs into her pocket. “After I have a word with Lucia.”

Lucia jumped in her seat. “Yes, Lady Dragonborn?!”

“It’s fine, Lucia. I just wanted to talk with you a moment. You told me that you were on the streets because your mother died, and your aunt and uncle abandoned you?” She was asking just to confirm. She wasn’t likely to forget. Lucia's story stirred old memories for Daenerys. The servants who had raised her and Viserys had turned upon them within hours of the death of Willem Darry. They had looted all the valuables and abandoned her and her brother to the streets

“Yes, ma’am. After Mama died my aunt and uncle took over our farm. They threw me out. They said I wasn’t good for anything.”

“Oh, did they now?” She couldn't keep the edge out of her reply. Maybe she couldn’t save every beggar child, but she could help Lucia. What was done to her wasn’t at all in keeping with what she knew about Nord culture. Nords were known for many things. They were fierce warriors and liked to drink heavily. They placed a high value on honor and serving the gods, but they put just as high a value on family. Turning out a child who was kin was simply not in keeping with Nord customs or values. Although, now that she thought about it, Lucia looked more like an Imperial than a Nord.

“Are your aunt and uncle Imperials?”

“Oh, no ma’am. They’re Nords, like my Papa was. My Mama was Imperial like me.”

Daenerys nodded. That made sense and was likely another reason they had turned out their niece. “Do you know if they own their land, or who they’re sworn to?”

“I think they own it now. I remember Nazeem wanted to buy the land, and Mama wanted to sell, but my aunt and uncle said no.”

She remembered Nazeem. He was a Redguard noble who had fled Hammerfell and settled in Whiterun. He had done well enough to be a landed noble sworn to Jarl Balgruuf. He was also a braggart and a bore, but he would be the perfect solution to this problem.

“Would you like to take another message, Lucia? I’d like to meet with Nazeem. He might be at Dragonsreach, or out at his farm, so it could take a lot to find him. I’ll pay you for it.”

“Oh, yes, Lady Dragonborn! I’ll find him. He’s probably up at Dragonreach. His wife, Ahlma, is a priestess of Kynareth, and I’ve heard her talking about him. She says he’s usually stuffed up the jarl’s backside.”

Sofija let out a strangled laugh at that remark.

“Yes, well, be polite at Dragonreach. Don't annoy the guards, and don't repeat that remark." Wait a few moments and I'll write you a letter. Quill and paper were easily found, and Daenerys quickly wrote out a letter for Nazeem. "Off with you now. Check Dragonreach first. That's where I'm heading and if Nazeem is there we can meet this morning."

“Yes, Lady Dragonborn!" Lucia darted off at a run before Daenerys could even pay her.

Daenerys couldn't help smiling after Lucia left. She couldn't save every street urchin, but she would save this one “Looks like we're going to be talking to two Redguards today, Sofija"

“Yes, Lady Dragonborn," replied Sofija dryly.

Daenerys glanced over at Sofjia unsure for a moment if that was Nord humor or if Sofiia was being entirely serious. Sofija stared back at her impassively for a moment and then smirked. When Daenerys burst out laughing Sofija joined in.

.oOo.

The Whiterun jail was located next to the armory and adjacent to the barracks. It was a very efficient setup. In addition to the guards actually on prison duty, there were numerous guards off duty only a shout away. Daenerys took advantage of being a Thane of Whiterun to ask about the prisoner and his crimes. Although the respect she was shown probably had more to do with her being the Dragonborn than a mere thane. She quickly confirmed everything Jesper had said.

“So, if I pay his fine of 100 septims, you’ll release him to my custody?”

“Yes, Thane. He will need to be outside of the city walls before nightfall.”

Daenerys nodded. “I don’t see that as being a problem. I’ll escort him outside myself, provided we can reach an agreement. Can I speak with him now?”

“Of course, right this way.”

The guard led her to a cell where a dirty man knelt on the floor apparently in prayer. He looked like a typical Redguard: dusky skin and wearing loose clothing and a turban. He looked up at her. “What are you looking at?”

“A warrior, trapped in a cell. Would you like to be free?”

He rose from his kneeling position in a fluid motion and took one step toward the bars. “You had better not be mocking me. I have dishonored my brothers by being captured, and so they have left me here, but I have no wish to die in this gods-forsaken land. What do you want from me?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Don’t know. Don’t really care about you wetlanders. I only care if you can get me out and what you will want in return.”

“I am Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Dragonborn. The gods have laid a burden upon me to stop the dragons that are plaguing Skyrim, but I cannot fight them alone. I need warriors who are brave enough to stand and fight a dragon, skilled enough to actually harm one, and disciplined enough to follow orders.”

He scowled. “So not only do I have to risk my life to fight dragons, but I also have to stay in this land?”

“You don’t expect me to pay your fine for nothing, do you? I won’t ask you to swear to me. I’m hiring mercenaries as well. Sign up for a year and day. Food and board, a fair salary, and a share of the spoils – your fine to be deducted from your cut.”

“Hmm, what is a ‘fair’ salary?”

They dickered for a little over price but quickly reached an agreement. “I have to pay the guards, and I’ll try to get your weapons returned. What’s your name?”

“Salim Bashir.”

.oOo.

Daenerys had Sofija take Salim to their encampment outside Whiterun while she went to meet with Nazeem. Lucia had indeed found him at Dragonreach, and was quite agreeable to meet with the Dragonborn. He was just as pompous as she remembered from her brief meeting with him previously. He even sneered at Salim Bashir and deliberately mistook him for a servant. That probably wouldn’t have ended well for him if Salim had been armed. However, he was very much interested in the plan that Daenerys offered.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly. You’re going to convince Ottar and Gita to sell their land to me, give half to that scruffy child there, and all I have to do is to place… Lucia with one of my tenants until she’s of age?”

Daenerys realized her plan was flawed. Nazeem would not have Lucia’s best interest at heart in placing her with a family. She improvised on the spot. “No, no, that wouldn’t do, a man placing a girl with a family? I think it would be best if your wife arranged that piece of things.”

Nazeem’s mouth twitched to a frown. “You’ll have to talk to her about that then. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with the estate.”

“That’s not a problem. We can stop by the Temple of Kynareth on our way out of town.” While a part of her was annoyed by just how much time it was taking to save one child, a single glance at Lucia who was barely restraining herself made it worth it. “Let’s be off.”

“What, now?” asked Nazeem. “This will take most of the day.”

Daenerys found herself agreeing with Nazeem on how long it was taking. She was only trying to save one child. How hard could that be? When she ruled, she could have just given an order. Justice would have been done, and someone would have seen to Lucia. Arranging it herself meant dealing with all the little details that rulers didn’t have to worry about. However, every time she saw the smile on Lucia’s face or received another hug from the child, she knew it was worth it. “All the more reason to start now. Do you want the land or not?”

“Oh, I do. It’s good land and adjacent to mine. Very well, let’s be off. You’re certain you can make them sell?”

“Oh, I can be very convincing.”

Nazeem’s wife, Ahlma, was as gracious as Nazeem was boorish. She readily agreed to find a family that would foster Lucia, and said it would not be difficult if Lucia received half the proceeds of the sale of the farm. “Have no worries on that account. It’s not hard to find someone willing to take on an extra girl when she has a hefty dowry. I’ll take care of it.”

While Nazeem was only a karl, he was a wealthy one, so naturally he owned a horse. Daenerys didn’t even try to argue him into walking. Buying horses was on her agenda already. They were too expensive to use to pull her wagons, even if they were faster than oxen. Horses were simply too expensive. Especially when a wagon train would likely attract dragons. However, she wanted to mount her scouts on horses so they could cover more ground. Horses would also allow her to make short side trips, like the one she planned to Riverwood, in less time as long as she was willing to travel with a smaller party. She had planned to buy three horses for herself, Lydia, and Sofija for side trips, and for her scouts the rest of the time. However, she had not planned on buying horses today and didn’t have enough coin on her. Given the way that trade between holds had all but died off, she was hoping she could come to a deal.

The stable master was dark-haired Nord with a close-cropped beard by the name of Skulvar Sable-hilt. He was absolutely thrilled to have the Dragonborn looking at his horses. He also obviously thought she was a fool.

“This is what you bring me? This horse is nine years old and a mare. She’s built like a plow horse and favors her right leg. Is this the quality of your horses? Or was this a deliberate insult?”

“No, my lady, no insult was intended. I just heard you travel by ox-drawn cart and I didn’t think – ”

“That I would know a good horse from a bad one? Thought you would sell me your old nag for the price of a young stallion?”

“No, no, I just thought you needed a less spirited horse. My mistake. I’ll bring you another horse.” He rushed away. “Jervar! You idiot boy! This is not the horse you show to a noble! Bring me Nightwind, and hurry.”

Nazeem looked at her with new respect. “I didn’t know that you could ride, let alone that you were so knowledgeable about horses. You really put that one in his place.”

“My first husband was Khal Drogo. You don’t spend months riding with a Dothraki Khalasar and not learn a few things about horses.” Even her handmaidens loved to talk about horses. The Dothraki would not approve of the horses of Skyrim. They were shaggy rather than sleek and built for endurance rather than speed. Although Nightwing turned out to be not that bad.

Nightwind was indeed a better horse, but Daenerys looked over several other horses before she decided on the three she would purchase. Then she got down to haggling. After Skulvar tried to pawn the nag off on her, she was in a mood to drive a hard bargain. She started haggling for just the stallion, and when he wouldn’t lower the price further, she revealed that she was interested in three horses, not just the one. That opened up the bargaining again. When it stalled again, she threw in that their business would certainly increase just because the Dragonborn bought from him. Skulvar didn’t even bother to argue the point.

“Agreed,” she said once they had finally reached the price. “Unfortunately, that is a lot of coin. More than I carry around on me. I’ll have to go back into Whiterun to get my coin, but… would you accept payment in dwemer-metal ingots?”

“Dwemer-metal? I heard you brought back a fortune of it, but I can’t approve that. I can’t sell for anything but septims. You’ll have to talk to the owner, Lillith Maiden-Loom, and she’s not here right now. She should be tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” agreed Daenerys. “I’ll come back tomorrow on one condition.”

“Oh, and that is?”

“You let me borrow Nightwind and the sorrel horse for a ride. I’ll have them both back in a couple of hours. I’m not about to turn horsethief on you.”

“Well now…” He frowned and looked from her to the horse.

Daenerys waited patiently. She was confident that in the end his desire to sell three horses would outweigh the risk of the Dragonborn suddenly turning horsethief.

“Very well, I see no harm in it. Take him for a ride. Lilith should be here early tomorrow morning. You will have to speak with her about the dwemer-metal trade.”

“Thank you, Skulvar.”

Lydia was scowling. “My thane. I am not a good rider and I don’t really like you traveling beyond the walls with only me for protection. Sofija should really be here as well.”

Daenerys nodded. “I understand, Lydia. It will be a short ride by horse, and we’ll be well in sight of Whiterun. This is safe territory, now that the dragon is gone.” She could tell Lydia still wasn’t happy, but she had already spent a large chunk of a day in errands. On a horse she could finish this today, so she could buy horses and ride to Riverwood tomorrow. “I’m decided, Lydia. You either come with me, or wait here. I’ll be back in couple of hours, probably less.”

Lydia dipped her head. “As you will, my thane. I will protect you with my life.”

Daenerys looked over to the cause of all this running around. “Lucia, do you want to ride behind me? You’re light enough. You’ll have to hang on tight.”

“Oh yes! May I please?”

“Yes, climb on up. Hurry now, Nazeem almost has his horse saddled.”

Nazeem didn’t mind racing, but refused to wager on it. “Maybe if I hadn’t seen you barter with the stable master. You’re on a fast horse and you know horses. I did not get where I am today by throwing away my money on foolish wagers.”

“Very well, let’s see just how fast this horse is.” Daenerys hadn’t been on a horse in quite a while. It wasn’t the same as riding a dragon. It didn’t really compare, but Nightwing was fast horse, and riding him was a joy. She easily beat Nazeem.

She climbed down and tied the horse to the gate when they arrived. Then she helped Lucia down. “Lucia, I want you to stay back. Hold your tongue no matter what your aunt and uncle say. You deserve to see this, but they brought this down upon themselves by their actions.”

“Yes, ma’am, Lady Dragonborn.”

The house looked like a typical Nord farmhouse, wooden walls with some stones stacked around the foundation for support, thatch roof, and only a few windows. It was a humble but sturdy structure meant to protect the family from the harsh winters. Chickens ran around freely in the yard. A barking dog greeted their arrival, but it shifted from angry to excited when Lucia approached it. It started wagging its tail and jumped up on her to lick her face. That was clear proof that this was her home - not that any proof was needed.

“Who goes there?” A stern woman appeared in the doorway. She was dark of hair with wisps of grey. Her skin was worn by years of labor. She regarded them with suspicion and held one hand behind her back, probably holding a weapon. “Nazeem. We told you we weren't interested. Oh, you brought the brat, and hired muscle.” She raised her voice. “Ottar, where are you?! We've got unwanted guests!”

“I'm on my way, woman!” came a cry from the fields. A man in his middle years holding a hoe came running up. He had a ruddy complexion and a long beard that stretched down to his belly. He was accompanied by another man, younger, and most likely his son judging by the similarity of his face. “Get off my land, Nazeem! I told you we're not interested. This is our land.” He shifted the hoe holding it high and brandishing it as a weapon.

His wife emerged from the house and this time she brandished a dagger instead of hiding behind her back. “There, you heard it from me. You heard it from my husband. That's all who have a say. Begone.”

Nazeem chuckled and dismounted. “I'm not the one you need to be talking to, Ottar. This is a matter of honor. I'm just here to help. You need to speak to the Companion.” He waved a hand at Daenerys.

Daenerys stepped forward at that cue. “Ottar and Gita, you turned your brother's child out when his wife died. That dog has more honor than you. He recognizes family. You did not. I don't trust milk-drinkers like you to take care of her, so you will pay her what she is owed today - half the value of your land. If you don't have the coin to pay her share,” she shrugged, “That is why I brought Nazeem.”

“Companions,” Gita spat on the ground. “Little more than hired thugs. You're here to cheat us of our land. That girl isn't our blood. She's not even a Nord. Look at her. She's an Imperial, just like her mother and just as useless. Mother's blood will always tell. We owe her nothing.” She waved her dagger about in the air punctuating her rant.

“Put your weapons away. I'm here to settle this the traditional way, fist to fist. Which of you do I have to beat down? Will it be you Ottar? Or will you hide behind your wife's skirts?”

Ottar tossed down his hoe. “Companion? You look like a child wearing her father's armor. Come on then.” He walked toward her with his fists raised. He didn't look like a warrior, but he didn't look soft either.

Daenerys stepped forward and aimed a punch for Ottar's belly. The man turned a bit, punched back, and the fight was on. As fights go this one was decided one-sided. Daenerys was wearing armor including gauntlets, she was also as strong as a man now. Daenerys let her armor soak the damage when he went for a body blow, only bothering to dodge when he swung for her face. His hands were quickly bruised and bleeding while she was unharmed. After she got in a blow to his belly, the fight was all but over. She wanted to stop then, but she had to see this through for Lucia. She kept punching him until he fell down and didn't get back up.

Gita rushed to her husband when he fell and cradled his head in her arms. “Such bravery beating up a man while wearing armor. This is our land. We're still not selling.”

Privately Daenerys agreed with her about the lack of bravery. She was exploiting Nord traditions to save Lucia, but she wasn’t proud of beating up a farmer. It hadn’t been close to a fair fight. However, she held firm. This was the same as passing judgment on the bandits. She was just using her fists instead of a sword. “Throwing your goodsister's child out onto the streets was wrong. You brought this on yourselves. You'll get paid for the land, and you can even stay and work the land.”

“As thralls!” wailed Gita still cradling her husband. “You're taking our home from us!”

“No, Gita. It's over. They've won.” Ottar pushed himself to his feet. “It's no use. If you keep arguing, she will just beat you down as well, and it won’t change anything.”

“We'll take it to the jarl! He'll side with us.”

“No, he won't. The jarl won't overrule a Companion on a matter of honor.” He glared at Daenerys. “You give us no choice, but I hope you sleep well knowing you have turned a family of true Nords into thanes in service to a Redguard, all for an Imperial child... but your eyes. You're of mixed blood yourself. The Companions shouldn't even accept your kind. Not that it matters. I'll fetch the deed.”

Daenerys went over to Lucia. She had to remind herself why she was doing this. No matter how much the family complained, they had been in the wrong. It wouldn’t have taken much to feed Lucia, and they could have put her to work. They chose to turn her out to fend for herself. They did not deserve her sympathy. She found Lucia in tears.

“It's because of my blood? I don't want to be an Imperial anymore. Skyrim is my home.”

Daenerys hugged her as gently as she could while wearing armor. “Don't worry, you'll have a new home soon, Nazeem promised.”

“Can I stay with you instead, Lady Dragonborn?”

Daenerys smiled and shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I can't take you with me.” Then a thought struck her. “However, there is something you can do for me. How would you like to raise ravens for me?”


	6. Chapter 6

# Chapter 5

Fredas, the 1th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys remembered Riverwood fondly, but it felt strange to be back. She couldn’t remember ever really having a home. She remembered growing up on the streets with Viserys, but before that she only had vague memories of a house with a red door, a place where she was safe and warm. For a brief while Riverwood had started to feel like home to her. The people had been open and kind to a traumatized outlander who didn't even speak their language. She had felt almost like a child again, not even able to make her simplest wants and needs known. To be honest her second childhood had been much more pleasant than her first. Of course, childhood doesn’t last, and she had been forced to leave before she had been truly ready. Once she left Riverwood, she got caught up in a current of events that swept her away. By going with the flow instead of fighting it, she felt like she had achieved some control over her life. She had loyal followers now to help her as well. Yet, the currents had only grown stronger and deeper. She couldn't leave the path she was on. If she tried, she would be swept away. She wasn't coming home to Riverwood. In truth this place had never been home. Even back then she had been a little too large for Riverwood, but it had been a good place to rest and heal. Despite the bustle of the town it was still a calm backwater compared to the rest of Skyrim.

Winter was now well past, the grass was green again, flowers bloomed, and the loud buzz of the lumber mill in full operation could be heard before she even reached the walls of Riverwood. The horses were already proving their worth as they arrived at Riverwood in the late afternoon. She should be able to get her business done and be back in Whiterun by tomorrow. However, instead of seeking out the two people she had come to Riverwood to recruit, she went straight to the lumber mill.

The mill was as busy as an anthill. The river was full from the spring rains and overflowing the banks. Lumberjacks were busy fishing logs from the river and wrestling them into place to be cut by the mill. Hod was running back and forth shouting. The reactions to her presence varied. Some of the men were so focused on their work, they didn't even notice her arrival. Some bowed or even knelt to her. Others merely waved as if she had never left Riverwood and was still the tavern wench at the Sleeping Giant Inn.

Hod briefly paused when he spotted her. “Well, look who's back! Too busy to talk right now, but I expect it's Gerdur you want. She's at the other end, dealing with the wagoneers buying this load.”

“Thanks, Hod, for everything you did for me. I'll go talk to her.”

Daenerys found Gerdur at the other end. As soon as she saw Gerdur, Daenerys almost rushed forward to hug her, but Gerdur was busy haggling with wagoneer. While Gerdur was not her mother, she might be the closest thing that Daenerys had ever had to one. She had been lost, confused, and traumatized by her death, rebirth, almost execution, and the violent escape that followed it. Gerdur had fed her, clothed her, comforted her, taught her how to speak the language, and gently explained about the world she found herself in. However, Gerdur was busy haggling. Daenerys just watched and waited.

“Sold,” finalized Gerdur and coins exchanged hands. “Now get your wagon loaded up.”

The men started loading their wagon while Gerdur kept an eye on them, probably to make certain they didn't load up more sewn logs than they'd paid for.

“Gerdur!” shouted Daenerys as soon as they were done.

“What? Who? Daenerys?! By the gods, is that really you?” Gerdur rushed forward and hugged her, not that she could feel the embrace inside her armor. “Look at you. You left to go learn magic, and you come back wearing armor with a bracer on your arm and a mace on your hip.” She shook her head in disbelief. “And I’ve heard that you killed dragons.”

“Just the one, Gerdur, and I had a lot of help. To tell the truth I spent the battle taunting it.” Daenerys turned and gestured to her housecarl. “Sofija here is the one who struck the mortal blow.”

Sofija crossed her arms. “My thane is being too generous. I was one sword among many. It was Lady Targaryen who hatched the plan, who stood and faced dragonfire again and again so that we could strike at the dragon.”

“Well now,” replied Gerdur. “You’ll both have to tell me the full story, and I’ll judge the truth of it, but it will need to be later. We’re busy of late now that the wagoneers aren’t so skittish. You will stay the night with us, won’t you? I’ll make that fish chowder you like so much.”

Daenerys had vaguely planned to stay at the Sleeping Giant Inn, but she accepted immediately. “Yes, of course we’ll stay, Gerdur.” While Gerdur did make a good fish chowder, it was talking that Daenerys craved. She wouldn’t be able to tell Gerdur everything, but she had learned from Brelyna that sharing her burdens lightened them. There really wasn’t anyone else she could just talk with. To the Companions she was an equal, but a warrior maid in training. Faralda was talking again, but she was focused on magic and Shouting to the exclusion of almost everything else. To almost everyone else she was some hero out of legend. “I’ll leave you be. I have business to attend to while I’m here, but I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Off with you then.” Gerdur made a shooing gesture. “We’ll exchange stories tonight.”

Daenerys left with a spring in her step. Gerdur and Hod didn’t figure into her plans in any way, but just that short talk with Gerdur made her feel better. The whole business with Lucia’s family had left a sour taste in her mouth. The simple kindness of Gerdur and Hod, their charity to strangers, and their willingness to roll up their sleeves and work hard – restored her hope. At their worst Nords were loud, opinionated, bigoted, drunkards. However, they were also about family, honor, tradition, hard work, and community. She never really fit in this town, but they had welcomed her anyway. With a sigh she turned away from the mill. “We’ll come back later. Time to track down the people we came to meet.”

She led Sofija and Lydia to the Sleeping Giant Inn. It was still a nice little inn. The walls were solid wood and the thatch roof kept out the rain. The floors needed sweeping, but there were no rats in the walls, and no dogs allowed. The food was simple, but filling. Yet, it seemed much smaller than she remembered it. Probably, it was just because it was the middle of the day. Only a few people were present. Business didn’t really pick up until the lumber mill closed. She headed straight for the bar.

“Hey Orgnar, I see the place still hasn’t burned down.”

“Daenerys, you’re back! About time. The place could use a good sweeping. Broom’s in the back.”

She burst out laughing, then trailed off. Was he serious?

Orgnar gave her a sly wink. “I’m slow, but I’m not that slow. I know who you are now. Half the men in town have been bragging how they once grabbed the Dragonborn’s ass. Even the ones who never dared. Are you here for a room, or looking for Delphine?”

She let the comment about her ass slide. That was Nord humor. The proper response would involve bragging and insults, but it didn’t come naturally to her, so she simply answered the comment. “I’m here for Delphine, is she about?”

“Sorry, I can’t help you. She took off four days ago. Said she might be gone a few weeks.”

“Weeks.” Hmm, that seemed to kill her theory that Delphine was a Blade. According to Fultheim the Blades had been founded to kill dragons and protect the Dragonborn. Obviously, rumors about her had reached Riverwood. She had half-expected for Delphine to turn up in Whiterun before now. However, four days was more than enough time to get to Whiterun, and the entire city had known she was staying with the Companions. Instead of seeking her out Delphine had run off somewhere on another one of her mysterious journeys. While Delphine certainly had something going on, she apparently wasn’t a Blade. She had known that was a possibility. Fultheim was correct. It took more than an Akaviri sword to be a Blade, but she had hoped to add another Blade to her followers. Daenerys was still a bit curious about her mysterious former employer, but she had far too much on her plate already to worry about Delphine’s secrets.

“Thanks, Orgnar. I’m only going to be in town one day. Tomorrow, I’m heading back to Whiterun, but I’m recruiting.” She smiled as she finally thought of a good reply to the men bragging about grabbing her ass. “I need good warriors and archers, men who can also follow orders and are brave enough to fight a dragon. If any man who bragged about grabbing my ass wants to man up, tell them to come to Whiterun. They can apply to Fultheim the Fearless.”

Orgnar laughed. “I better bring up another keg. There is going to be a lot of bragging tonight. It’s possible a few of them might even apply when they sober up.”

Daenerys laughed and waved. “Take care, Orgnar.” She took one last look around the main room and walked out the door.

Outside she crossed the street and entered the Riverwood Trader. They still had the same miscellaneous goods for sale, but someone, most likely Camilla, had rearranged everything. Food and other dry goods were now on the shelves where weapons were formerly displayed. The weapons had been mounted on the wall and in racks. Cloaks were prominently displayed, and the once stolen Golden Claw was now secured to the wall above the fireplace mantel.

Lucan Valerius, the owner, stood behind the counter leaning forward on his elbows. He kept his hair cropped short and his beard neatly trimmed in the Imperial style. He stood up straight when Daenerys entered followed by her housecarls. “Well, well, well, look who just walked in! Daenerys the Unburnt, I heard you were in town. What can I do for you today? We still owe you for getting the claw back. I can make you a good deal. We have the best prices in town.”

“Daenerys?” came a voice from upstairs. The pounding of feet on the stairwell preceded the arrival of Camilla Valerius, Lucan’s sister. She greatly resembled her brother. They had the same eyes and the same beaked nose, but Lucan was more rugged while Camilla had a feminine softness. “Why, it is you! Hilde said you were in town, but I thought she was making up stories. Why would anyone come back to Riverwood? Especially you!”

“Camilla!” Lucan sighed. “Please excuse my sister. She doesn’t mean to be rude. She just gets excited easily, as you well know. What can we do for you today?”

Daenerys was amused by the interplay between Camilla and Lucan. It was very much obvious that Lucan was the older sibling. In many ways he treated Camilla more like his daughter than his sister. He probably wasn’t going to like her proposal, but it really wasn’t up to him. “Actually, I’m here for you, Camilla.”

“Me?!” she backed away. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Daenerys laughed. “No, you misunderstand. I want to hire you, Camilla. I’ve been steadily recruiting followers since I’ve arrived in Whiterun. I have more than two dozen now. I’m basically running my own little army. All those men need to eat, they need to be paid and armed. I’m raiding Nord barrows and looting them for income. Everything has to be sold and turned into gold. I have a ledger but keeping up with the day to day buying and selling takes up a big chunk of my time. I need to delegate. I need someone to handle that for me. Here in Tamriel it would be a Steward if I owned land, but I don’t, so you would have to settle for being my Master of Coin.”

“Daenerys, with all due respect for your achievements, you’ve come to the wrong place,” said Lucan. “My sister is not for sale. Try Belethor in Whiterun. It might be best for you to go now.”

Daenerys turned to Lucan with a frown. “I believe your sister is old enough to make her own decisions.”

“M-me? You want me?” asked Camilla. But, why?”

“That’s a good question,” agreed Lucan. “Camilla knows how to haggle, but she’s a bit of a scatterbrain at times. You should hear some of her crazy ideas.” He laughed derisively.

Daenerys kept her focus on Camilla. “I have heard your ideas. That is why I am here. You have big ideas, much too big for Riverwood. I need someone who can think big. I need someone open to new ideas and not just doing things the way they’ve always been done, but can also handle a ledger, numbers, and haggling. I also need someone who is open to traveling and not being tied down to one little town. I’ve heard your ideas. You want more than Riverwood. You’re also honest. Why did you turn down both Faendal and Sven?”

“Because they were both lying bastards sneaking around behind my back and making up stories!”

“Exactly,” agreed Daenerys. “Honest, good with money, thinks big, willing to travel. That says Camilla Valerius to me.”

“Leave Riverwood? Yes! Gods yes. I want to be your Mistress of Coin. Where do I sign? What do I sign?”

“Camilla! Wait. You never think things through. She’s working you. I’ve told you over and over how to make a sale. She’s doing it perfectly. She talks about all the good things, like any good haggler, but she left out the downside – dragons. Those men she is gathering, they’re for fighting dragons, and she’s not talking about leaving you in town. You’ll be out there with her. You won’t even make a full meal for a dragon. Chomp. Chomp. Swallow. No, more Camilla. Riverwood might be boring, but it’s safe!”

Daenerys didn’t even try to argue with Lucan. She kept her eyes fixed on Camilla. “He does have a point. It’s not entirely safe. I have other non-combatants in my followers: wagoneers, a cook, and even a handmaiden. I would keep all of you out of fights as much as possible. I’m also having tower shields built for my civilian followers. You could lie down on the ground and cover yourself. Obviously, I cannot guarantee it as safe, but you would be protected. It’s like anything in life, you can’t achieve big things without taking some risks, but it’s your life.”

“Camilla – ”

“No, Lucan. Not this time. I want this. You love the Riverwood Trader. It’s your life, but it was never going to be mine. I was always going to get married and move away someday.”

“That’s not necessarily true. If you’d settled down with Sven or Faendal, then you could keep working here. You would have even inherit. I’m never going to have children.”

Camilla sighed and walked over to him. “Lucan, brother. You raised me. I’ll always love you, but I want to see the world. I know, dragons are dangerous, but she kills dragons. She’s the Dragonborn. That’s what she does. Maybe, I’ll be one of the unlucky ones, but I’d rather grab my dream than let it pass me by and spend my life regretting what might have been.”

“Camilla…”

“No, Lucan. I’m taking this chance with both hands. Be happy for me.”

Lucan dipped his head. “If you’re set on it, I won’t stop you. Just be careful.”

Camilla threw her arms around her brother and hugged him.

Lucan held her but he glared at Daenerys as he hugged his sister. “You better not get her killed.”

“I will protect your sister, Lucan, as best I can. I’m not sending her against a dragon and she’s of no use to me dead, but…” She sighed. “Valar morghulis.”

Lucan frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a saying, from my home. One of the two certainties in this world. All men must die.”

“Lucan, I’ll be fine,” insisted Camilla. She looked to Daenerys. “I guess, I’ll go pack my things.”

“Take your time, Camilla. I’m staying the night. We’ll leave for Whiterun a little after dawn. Have a last meal with your brother, pack only what you can carry. You’ll be riding behind me on my horse. I’ll be staying with Gerdur and Hod at the mill. You can meet us there.”

Camilla nodded. “Very well, tomorrow then when the sun rises.”

As they were leaving the Riverwood Trader Sofija asked, “My thane, you said death was one of the two certainties of the world. What is the other one?”

“Valar dohaeris, all men must serve.”


	7. Chapter 6

# Chapter 6

Loredas, the 2th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys enjoyed a relaxing and soothing evening with Gerdur and Hod. She described the highlights of her adventures and listened to Gerdur tell of what had changed in Riverwood, which was nothing really. Gerdur’s fish chowder was as good as she remembered, and she slept better than she had since leaving the College of Winterhold. She didn’t really want to leave the next morning, but she knew she could never stay in Riverwood. The town was simply too small for her, and she had too much to do.

The journey back to Whiterun was much slower than their trip to Riverwood. They had a party of four and only three horses, so someone either had to ride double or walk. Camilla wasn’t a large woman, but the rest of them were also wearing steel armor, which added to the horse’s burden. They switched off every couple of miles so that everyone took a fair turn walking. While it wasn’t a tiring journey, it wasn’t as quick as the journey to Riverwood when they had all been mounted. On the plus side it gave her a good chance to have a long talk with Camilla about the finances of her rapidly growing band of followers.

Camilla was eager to learn all she could. She asked questions about their sources of her income, primarily looting bandits and Nord barrows. She also asked about their expenses: food, salaries, battle spoils, carts, oxen, horses, and more. She had good insights and suggestions. One of the obvious being that most jarls already had bounties on bandits and other threats. Those could be researched and claimed. She also had questions about dwemer-metal, and what other deals Daenerys had already made. However, her most insightful comment had nothing to do with the finances at all.

“You need a name for this company of yours. We’re effectively a mercenary company, even if you don’t like calling us mercenaries. That’s what people are going to call you as well, until you give us a real name.”

Daenerys frowned. “I’ve thought about that, but I haven’t reached a decision. The obvious name to take is the Blades. Fultheim is overseeing all the training of the men. However, the White-Gold Concordat disbanded the Blades. The Thalmor are going to hate me regardless, but naming my followers the Blades would also antagonize the Empire. I’ve considered doing it anyway. Rumor already has it that I am a Talos worshiper.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She believed in the divinity of the Talos, and he had likely sent Grandfather to save her, and she was wearing the amulet of Talos, but she didn’t pray to any specific gods. Not that it mattered. The rumor was well-established. “While I want to remain neutral in the civil war, that may not be possible. There are advantages to naming my followers The Blades. I would borrow their fame, and I might attract former Blades that are now in hiding.”

“My thane,” asked Lydia. “Why not simply name them the Dragonguard? It’s the original name of the organization that became the Blades, back when they mostly fought dragons.”

“Truly?” She paused to think about that when both Lydia and Camilla nodded. “That fits. Back in Westeros the elite knights who guarded the king were called the Kingsguard. Any Blades in hiding who hear it could still seek me out, and if any Imperials object I can point out that they aren’t the Blades.”

“It also fits with your preference for having sworn followers, my liege.” Camilla had been surprised to have been asked to swear, but had sworn her allegiance over her brother’s objections. “The Dragonguard were bound by oaths. It’s unusual for an unlanded nobles to swear in their followers.”

“Very well, it’s decided. My military followers are now the Dragonguard. That doesn’t change the status for the three of you. You’re all still sworn to me personally, and House Targaryen.”

The sun had set by the time they arrived at the encampment where her followers were staying. She introduced Camilla to Fultheim and explained her duties. There was a lot to discuss about how she could help, and what had the highest priority. They also went over the longer term projects: progress on the tower shields, recruiting progress, training progress, arranging for new Dragonguard banners to go with the House Targaryen banner. Fultheim was a bit taken aback by the name, but after his initial surprise, he liked it.

“Fultheim, how is Salim Bashir working out?”

Fultheim smiled. “He’ll do fine. He’s a professional and knows his business. I’m thinking of promoting him and Jenassa. We’re getting large enough that I need seconds.”

“Do it,” agreed Daenerys promptly. “Is there anything else?”

“Yeah. One more thing, an Imperial officer stopped by this morning, Legate Quentin Cipius. He wanted to talk to you.” Fultheim’s tone was matter of fact, no apprehension or judgment. “I told him you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, and to look for you at Jorrvaskr.”

Daenerys nodded in understanding while she processed this development. She should have foreseen this. All the Imperial soldiers wandering around Whiterun had to have a camp somewhere close-by. It was more surprising that she hadn’t heard from the Empire sooner. Was he here to talk about their lost patrol? Or just to sound her out on her politics? “Did he say what he wanted to talk about?”

Fultheim shrugged. “I didn’t ask. Not my business.”

She kept her vexation in check. Fultheim followed her and had no interest in the politics of the civil war. Deferring to her was the right decision, even if it left her in the dark. “How much did he see of our training?”

Fultheim scowled. “Enough to get a count of our numbers and see us training with the ballistae.”

While she wasn’t exactly making a secret of her plan to fight dragons, she wasn’t happy about a potential enemy just walking up and getting a look at her forces. “Now that I’m back with the horses, I want you to set up a patrol schedule with our scouts. It will be good practice for them, and I don’t want anyone else sneaking up on us, even if this is supposed to be friendly territory.”

Fultheim nodded sharply. “I already planned on it. I won’t get caught with my breeches around my ankles again.”

.oOo.

It was mid-morning the next day before Daenerys arrived back at Jorrvaskr with Sofija and Lydia. A quick word with one of the servants confirmed there was someone waiting for her, but it wasn’t who she expected. Jon Battle-born had apparently been waiting for two days to speak with her. She had met him once, briefly at the celebration Jarl Balgruuf threw when she slew the dragon. Although, she had seen him hanging out around the market square. She was more than a bit curious about what he wanted. The Battle-born clan had been friendly enough during the celebration the jarl threw in her honor. However, their manner had chilled quite a bit after the few days. Probably due to the rumors that she favored the Stormcloaks, because the Battle-born clan were quite vocal supporters of the Empire.

She found Jon Battle-born on the patio behind Jorrvaskr overlooking where the Companion’s practice ground. Despite only meeting him once, she recognized him quite easily. The gods had been generous when they sculpted his face, gracing him with an abundance of rugged good looks. He kept his blond hair and beard neatly trimmed. He dressed like a warrior in simple leathers that left his muscular arms bare and wore a sword on his hip. In contrast to his dress, he was crouched over a scroll of paper with quill in hand. From the inkstains on his hand, he spent a lot of time with ink and quill.

“Jon Battle-born, I hear you wanted to talk to me.”

He looked up from his scroll and smiled broadly. “Well met, Lady Targaryen. I was indeed hoping to talk with you. I heard a story the other day about the Night King and a warrior maid called Arya Stark. It sounded to me like a tale that needed to be told, so I tracked the story back to here, but there was a lack of details to the story, so I was hoping to hear it from the source.”

That wasn’t what she expected. “Are you a historian then?”

“What? No, I’m a bard, the real kind of bard, a warrior poet of Nord tradition, not some poncy milk-drinker that sings the same songs over and over in a tavern and chases barmaids.”

That startled a laugh out of Daenerys. “Do you know Sven from Riverwood?”

Jon laughed along. “No, I just know the type. They give bards a bad name. So, lass will you tell me about the Night King and Arya Stark?”

Daenerys considered that for a moment. Tamriel didn’t have ravens. News made its way slowly by traders and word of mouth. Bards didn’t carry the news any faster, but they gave it shape. People remembered songs and stories better than just facts. While the story of Arya Stark and the Night King probably wouldn’t hurt her, it would raise more questions. On the other hand, the story was already out there. This would give her a chance to make sure the story didn’t hurt her. She could also be sure that it gave full credit where it was due. If the story worked out, she might even share some other stories of her past. “The story of Arya Stark is one that should be told, but is that really the story you’re interested in? Or is it my story?”

Jon spread out his hands before him in an exaggerated shrug. “Everyone does want to know your stories and where you came from, but it was Arya Stark that I want to know about. It is her story I want to tell.”

Daenerys nodded. She would have to think about what parts of her past she would want to share, but that was a worry for another day. “Good. If I agree to this, I insist that it remain her story. You can mention me, but the song must be about Arya.” Although she might be putting the cart before the horse. “Also, I’ll need to hear one of your songs. In case you haven’t heard, I have dragons to fight and men to train to face them. I’m not a bard. If I’m going to spend time telling tales, I want to know that you’ll tell it well.”

“Aye, that’s a fair question. Have you heard, ‘The Dragonborn Comes’? That was my work, although every bard in Whiterun is singing it now, and most of them are just singing the refrain and skipping the parts in Dovahzul.”

Daenerys frowned briefly. She was very familiar with that song. Anytime a bard spotted her they were sure to sing it. It didn’t really say much about her, but to be fair it had spread throughout the city just after her victory over **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir**. Nobody had known much about her. She had never heard anyone singing anything in Dovahzul. She thought it was a dead language only of interest to scholars. That Jon Battle-born even knew Dovahzul was impressive. He looked earnest, but was he any good?”

“I haven’t heard the full version sung. I’d like to hear it.”

“Now, lass? Aye, that’s fair. I don’t have my lute on me, so you’ll have to settle for just my voice.” He took a deep breath and launched into the song.

> [The Dragonborn Comes (YouTube)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FOkkE93coIg)
> 
> Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart
> 
> I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes
> 
> With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts
> 
> Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes
> 
> It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes
> 
> Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes
> 
> For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows
> 
> You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come
> 
> Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin Naal ok zin los vahriin
> 
> Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal
> 
> Ahrk fin norok paal graan
> 
> Fod nust hon zindro zaan
> 
> Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal
> 
> Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart
> 
> I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes
> 
> With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts
> 
> Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes
> 
> It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes
> 
> Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes
> 
> Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin Naal ok zin los vahriin
> 
> Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal
> 
> Ahrk fin norok paal graan
> 
> Fod nust hon zindro zaan
> 
> Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal
> 
> I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes

Listening to the entire song and not just the shortened version that she had heard before, Daenerys had to admit that Jon was good. She’d been entertained by minstrels before. He had a smooth voice that carried well. She had heard the song before and hadn’t liked it too much, but it was much better when Jon sung it. It didn’t hurt that Jon was easy on the eyes. She wasn’t sure which impressed her more, that he used Dovahzul, or that he had composed the song at all. You could find a bard singing in almost every tavern, but most of them just repeated songs. Only the best wrote new songs.

“Bravo, well-sung. Hi tinvaak Dovahzul pruzah.” You speak Dragontongue well. She was sincere in the compliment. She didn’t think he captured all the nuances correctly, but she wasn’t sure she had them correct either.

“Nox hi, Dovahkiin.” Thank you, Dragonborn.

“I’m surprised you know the language. I didn’t know anyone else spoke Dovahzul any longer.”

“It’s not that uncommon for sons of high ranked clan members to study the language. Some believe that it will give you a better chance of being chosen by the Greybeards.” He shrugged. “I can’t say whether it works or not. My father wanted me to make the pilgrimage, but I kept putting it off. With the war going on, now isn’t the time.”

Something felt off to Daenerys. Modesty, from a Nord? Dovahzul had seemed to come naturally to her as well. It had felt like something she had known but forgotten. Was it possible that having an affinity for Dovahzul was related to the ability to learn Shouts? “Learning a whole language is quite an effort for something you just gave up.”

He shrugged. “When I was a young lad, learning the Thu’um from the Graybeards sounded grand and honorable. Then I discovered mead and girls. The prospect of living the life of a recluse on top of a mountain is no longer as appealing as it once was.”

Daenerys laughed. “Finally, someone who understands. So many seem to think I should seek out the Greybeards.” Perhaps even the gods were part of that number. The Red Comet did appear to be pointing to the Throat of the World just after sunset. “I don’t fancy the monastic life either…” She trailed off as she noticed a stern warrior marching up to them wearing the armor of a legionnaire. That was unfortunate timing. She nodded at the Imperial officer and held up one finger for him to wait a moment.

“I’m afraid that I must cut our conversation short, Jon Battle-born. Tell me, have you ever considered joining my forces? You would have more time to speak with me about my past.”

Jon sighed. “Ah, the call to adventure. My Nord blood urges me to follow, but my Nord heart belongs to another here in Whiterun.”

Daenerys hated to cut this conversation short. That wasn’t a firm no. If he could be persuaded to join her forces, and if he could learn Shouts, it would make a huge difference in fighting dragons. “I’m afraid that I cannot keep the legate waiting. I’m very busy, but I will make some time for you in the evenings. Wait for me on the patio tonight, and we can discuss Arya Stark and perhaps some more of my past.”

“How could any true Nord refuse the opportunity to sit with a lady and hear tales of valor?” He glanced back at the legate. “Alas that another has priority in your heart.” He gathered up his scrolls, quill, and ink quickly, and then he gave her a bow. “Until this evening, Lady Targaryen.”

Daenerys stood and faced the legionnaire. He was a Nord in his middle ages, three or four decades, brown of hair, but clean-shaven. He had a stern countenance and a stiffness to his posture. Daenerys dipped her head slightly to acknowledge his arrival. “Would I be correct in guessing that you are Legate Quentin Cipius?”

“You are correct. Do I have the honor of addressing Daenerys of the House Targaryen, first of her name, the Unburnt, Dragonborn?”

“Indeed, sir.” She had to admire him for getting her titles correct. It showed he did his research because ‘first of her name’ was not the way she would be styled in the Empire, if they even acknowledged her titles. “Are you here on personal business or official?”

“Official, but I am acting on my own initiative. I have received no orders regarding you, at least not yet. This is strictly an inquiry. I decided to cut through all the rumors and go straight to the source.”

“Very practical of you.” In his bearing the legate reminded her of the Unsullied: determined, rigid, and disciplined. “Naturally, anything I say will be included in the report you will be sending to General Tullius, including the numbers and disposition of my men that you observed yesterday.”

“Not every word, but the gist of it, yes. You are welcome to write your own letter as well, I’ll be glad to include it in my dispatch.”

“I will likely take you up on that offer, but please, let us sit and discuss this over a cup of wine, like civilized people.” She gestured for him to take a seat on the patio.

“An excellent suggestion.” The legate gave a slight bow. “Ladies first.”

Daenerys sat down. She waited while one of the servants poured them both wine. She sampled hers and waited for the legate to sample his as well before she spoke. “Now, what questions do you have for me on behalf of the Empire?”

“Are you an enemy of the Empire?” asked Quentin Cipius.

Daenerys smiled. He might be a Nord, but his certainly military in bearing, direct and to the point. “No, I have grievances against the Empire, but I am not an enemy.”

“Then you do not support the Stormcloak rebellion?” His tone was inquisitive, not accusatory. This was more like a probing thrust in a duel, being a little aggressive to see how the opponent would react.

“I understand the grievances that the Stormcloaks have with the Empire, but I think that the true enemy of both Skyrim and the Empire as a whole is the Aldmeri Dominion. Only the Thalmor gain while men fight men.”

He gave a sharp nod of approval at that comment. “Yet, you travel with Stormcloaks?”

“Some of my men were once in service to the jarl of Winterhold, but they never bore arms against the Empire. However, the bulk of my forces were recruited here in Whiterun. My men are being trained to fight dragons, not the Empire. In fact, I told Jarl Ulfric to his face that he should seek a peaceful resolution to his dispute with the Empire.”

The Legate nodded. “Interesting. It is also widely said that you worship Talos.”

“That would be one of my grievances with the Empire. The people of Skyrim should be free to worship the gods of their choice. The Empire’s cowardice in allowing the Thalmor to murder its citizens is another. The treaty only banned the worship of Talos. There are many things that are banned, such as theft, dueling inside the city walls, and sleeping in the streets. Not all such crimes are punishable by death. The Empire is allowing Justicars free reign to murder Empire citizens without trial. Can you honestly tell me you agree with that?”

The legate’s face could have been carved from stone. “Whether I agree with it or not is irrelevant. The law is the law.”

Daenerys sipped her wine. In her eyes the Empire had rolled right over and showed its belly by allowing Thalmor Justicars the right to enforce the treaty with violence. The presence of foreign troops on Imperial lands was bad enough. That they could kill citizens without trial or penalty was proof of the Empire’s weakness. However, these were not issues that Quentin Cipius could fix. He was an officer and apparently an intelligent one, but he was still a soldier of the Empire. That meant he followed orders. Although his presence here proved he had some latitude on how to carry them out.

When she didn’t reply, he continued with his questions. “What are your other grievances with the Empire?”

“The Empire tried to murder me.” Now she let some heat creep into her reply. “I was lost. I was confused. I didn’t even speak the language when I arrived in Skyrim.” She knew that she was being a hypocrite about almost being executed. She had killed far more innocents during the burning of King’s Landing for less reason. However, she just couldn’t put what happened to her behind her. “One of your patrols found me. They marched me for leagues. They whipped when I wasn’t fast enough for them. The Empire sentenced me to be executed – and to this day I don’t know why. As far as I know it is still not a crime to be lost in the woods. The Empire is supposed to defend the weak and helpless. You were going to chop off my head!”

This finally got a reaction out of Quentin Cipius. He winced. “This would be at Helgen?”

“It was indeed. If the dragon hadn’t attacked, I would be dead.” She folded her arms. “You knew about this?”

“No, I did not.” He sighed. “Rumor names you as the naked girl seen at Helgen when it burned. Your cognomen, the Unburnt, and that you survived dragonfire support that rumor. I would like to offer a formal apology on behalf of the Empire for your mistreatment at our hands.”

“I appreciate your personal apology, Legate.” He didn’t deserve her anger, and she deserved worse. However, the Imperials hadn’t almost executed her for the burning of King’s Landing. She took a calming breath. “It is a good start, but if the Empire is truly concerned with making amends to me, then the ones responsible for the miscarriage of justice should first be punished, wouldn’t you agree?”

He dipped his head in agreement. “That would normally be the case. However, it may not be possible. The troops present at Helgen were decimated. The survivors fled in all directions, but some did end up under my command. I will investigate, punish any guilty that I find under my command, and include it in my report to General Tullius.”

“Very well, I look forward to hearing the results of your investigation.” She didn’t expect that much would come of it. The Legate could quite easily claim that everyone responsible was either dead or unaccounted for. It would be revealing if the Empire actually did take action.

“You sound skeptical. Let me assure you. I will investigate. I have given you my word, and it is my duty as an officer of the Empire. If I find any under my command who sentenced someone to be executed without even an inquest, there will be consequences. One of the responsibilities of an Imperial officer during war is to prevent atrocities, not perform them. Even during war there are lines that should not be crossed. No, that isn’t strong enough. Especially during war there are lines that should not be crossed. When one side commits an atrocity, the other side retaliates in kind. War is a bloody business at the best of times, which makes it more important to hold onto honor and not give in to savagery.”

Daenerys nodded in respect. His words hurt because she hadn’t just crossed lines. She had ripped them apart when she burned King’s Landing and justified it as necessary. She couldn’t change her past or make amends to the people of King’s Landing. She had to keep moving forward. She also needed to ease up. Unless she wanted to join the Stormcloaks, she shouldn’t go around flinging fire at the Imperials. “Thank you, Legate Cipius, for your apology. It is the first I have ever received from the Empire. I find it hard to forget that my welcome to Tamriel was to be whipped by legionnaires. Despite this, I have not joined the Stormcloaks, and I do believe that all mankind should be united against the oppression of the Aldmeri Dominion.” She paused for a moment to consider before continuing. “Would you like to hear the proposal I made to Jarl Ulfric that got me expelled from Windhelm?”

“Why, yes. I would indeed like to hear that proposal.”

“I suggested to the jarl that he seek a peaceful resolution. I have noticed that the Empire is deliberately holding back in this war. You protect and patrol the holds that side with the Imperials, but you have taken no actions to escalate the conflict. Am I wrong in thinking that you would welcome a peaceful solution?”

“You’re not wrong. Like you, I believe that only the Thalmor profit when the Empire fights among itself.”

“I suggested to Jarl Ulfric that he sue for peace under the following terms. The Empire first acknowledges the independence of Skyrim. Skyrim, in turn, agrees to give up its autonomy and rejoin the Empire under the same conditions granted to the dark elves when Morrowind joined the Empire – their right to worship their gods as they please.”

“That…” he paused. “I was going to say it broke the White-Gold Concordat, but it actually doesn’t. It skirts around the treaty by acknowledging Skyrim as independent first. What you suggest would appease Skyrim. However, it leaves the Empire to face the displeasure of the Aldmeri Dominion. There is little desire at the highest levels of the Empire for another war. That being said, it is the most reasonable proposal that I have heard yet. I will pass along this suggestion to my superiors. Although it appears your compromise is already dead, as Jarl Ulfric threw you out of Windhelm over it.”

“It is dead for now,” agreed Daenerys. However, just by presenting her compromise to both sides, she had at least created a possibility. “Nor do I see any way to change that at this point, but I can give you this. I will not be using my fame as the Dragonborn to support the Stormcloak cause. I intend to remain neutral in the matter of the Stormcloak Rebellion. I will focus upon the problem of the dragons.”

“Good.” He paused a moment and stroked his beard before he continued. “I have not heard official word, but I believe I can state with confidence that the Empire supports your efforts to address the dragon problem.”

“Really? What kind of support does the Empire offer?”

“What kind of support do you want?”

“Troops, ballistae, battlemages. Dragons don’t go down easy.” Not that she expected any real support, just words.

Quentin Cipius laughed. “No, from everything that I have read both old and new they do not, but you have already assembled a greater force than the one that killed the first dragon. While I would like to lend you some material assistance, I cannot lend you ballistae or battlemages.”

“Then what about troops?”

“Not as many as you would no doubt wish, but I could delegate a few men to you on detached duty. Your mission is an important one to the Empire, and you have amassed a considerable fighting force. That many men will draw attention during these times of war. I could assign some men to escort you about Skyrim. Having such an escort would ensure that you are not attacked by Imperial forces.”

“I see.” This was unexpected. Legate Cipius had just trapped her, or perhaps she had trapped herself. She had not been expecting the Empire to be so willing to lend her men, even as an escort. It had been a struggle to get any men from Jarl Kraldar. However, the legate was correct that her forces had grown large enough that Imperial or Stormcloak soldiers might turn them aside at the borders. It didn’t matter if she called them the Dragonguard or not, Skyrim was at war. An escort of Imperial troops would smooth the way, and she was planning to head into Imperial held territory. On the other side of the coin, they would also observe her actions and report back to the Empire. Their mere presence would also cause friction among her troops because her forces did lean to the Stormcloak side. Not to mention the little incident where they had ambushed an Imperial patrol. To buy a little time she tossed up a possible objection. “Would these men on detached duty also follow orders and aid in attacking dragons?”

“Of course, they would be under your command. That’s the very definition of detached duty, within the bounds of Imperial law, naturally.”

“Naturally.” She didn’t see a way to refuse the offered escort. The Empire would certainly believe that her words of neutrality were empty and that she was a military force loosely aligned with the Stormcloaks. To be fair, that was pretty close to the truth. “How many men?”

“I believe Jarl Kraldar gave you three men. I’ll give you half a dozen.”

Twice what the Stormcloaks had given her. That was a message as well. Two messages. One, he had good sources of intelligence. Two, the Empire was a more powerful ally than the Stormcloaks. It was a simple choice. Accept the men and with them the détente that Legate Cipius offered, or refuse them and the Empire would believe that she was secretly aligned with the Stormcloaks. “Six men? That’s a generous offer. I accept.”


	8. Chapter 7

# Chapter 7

Tirdas, the 5th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Sofija nudged Daenerys awake. "My thane. The sun will be rising soon. It's time to break camp."

Daenerys blinked sleep from her eyes as she recalled why she was sleeping in a bedroll. Today was the day they hit Silent Moons. She sat up in her bed and looked around. Only one lantern was lit. "Thank you, Sofija. Scouting report?"

"I spoke with Ull just a few minutes ago. All clear. If they have any sentries at all, they don't patrol this far out." She lit a second lantern.

Daenerys slipped out of her sleeping bag. "Good. Wake Aana and have her get started on breakfast. I want everyone fed and ready to move out when the sun clears the horizon." She glanced around the room and spotted Raina still sleeping. "Raina! Wake up, girl. I need your help."

Raina muttered something and thrashed about before sitting up and looking about. When her eyes met Daenerys, she dipped her head low. "Yes, Lady Targaryen." Her handmaiden didn't even bother to get dressed herself. She immediately started helping Daenerys into her armor while wearing nothing more than her nightclothes. Helping a lady into armor wasn't a traditional duty of a handmaiden, but Raina wasn't a traditional handmaiden. Once Daenerys had her armor on, Raina started brushing and braiding her hair.

"Simple braiding today, Raina. No one will see my hair under a helm anyway."

"Yes, my lady." She started doing a braid that was simple for Daenerys, but still more complicated than most Nord women would wear on anything but their wedding day. While Raina didn't have the refinement that a handmaiden should have, she had quickly learned to braid hair the way Daenerys liked it. "M'lady, if I may be bold, some of them may surrender today. Show them no mercy. Bandits don't know mercy, so they shouldn't receive any."

"I doubt there will be any survivors." Silent Moons had already been on her list of Nord barrows to investigate while she was in the vicinity of Whiterun. When Camilla had brought it to her attention that Jarl Balgruuf had placed a large bounty on the camp, it had been an easy decision to hit the encampment. This was also going to be a field trial for her new recruits. She had split her troops into two. Fultheim would be attacking from the east. She was attacking from the west. What reports she had described Silent Moons as a sprawling ruin set on a hillside. It had several stone buildings and underground tunnels, but no exterior wall. She had taken out larger groups of bandits with less men. "If anyone survives, you already know how I treat bandits."

"I do, my lady." She sounded pleased.

.oOo.

The plan sounded simple, attack from west and the east and trap the bandits between them. However, the execution involved coordinating two different groups without any communication between them. Her group which included both their supplies and their two ballistae headed due east. As they were limited to the pace of the ox-drawn carts, they moved slower. Meanwhile, Fultheim had taken the other half of her forces and swung south to stay out of sight of Silent Moons camp. They would then approach Silent Moons from the east. The plan was for them to arrive at the same time, but Daenerys wasn't surprised when her scouts reported fighting up ahead. Fultheim's men had arrived before her, and some of the bandits had sallied forth, probably before they realized just how many men Fultheim had. As she surveyed the battle she saw they had an opportunity, but only if they acted immediately.

She grabbed her mace and lifted it high in the air. "Cut them off! Charge!" Compared to riding on a dragon or a horse their charge was a miserable slow thing limited to how fast they could run.

The bandits engaged with Fultheim's forces broke and ran before their charge had closed the distance. Obviously, they had hoped to retreat to the ruins of Silent Moons, but their retreat turned into a rout. Fultheim's forces cut down all but the fastest when they tried to escape. Faralda was with Fultheim's forces and she wasn't holding back based on the explosions. Her own forces arrived in time to chase the retreating bandits into the ruins. However, not everything went as planned. Her forces advanced too fast and she lost control of most of them. Only her new Imperials on detached duty stayed together.

"Sofija, with me. We'll link up with the Imperials and storm the main building before they can dig in."

"Yes, my thane!"

Together the two of them hurried over to the Imperials. She waved at their leader, Gaius Paulinus. He reminded her a little of Jorah Mormont in that he was old warrior that had only grown tougher and more dangerous. His nose was crooked and squashed and he would never be considered handsome, but he was as tough as boiled leather. He pushed his men hard and he pushed himself harder. He claimed no rank, but the other five Imperials jumped when he yelled and cursed at them. He saluted as she approached. "Dragonborn."

"Everyone is scattered. We're going to punch through and take the main building up on top of the hill before they can regroup and fortify. Understand?"

"Yes, Dragonborn." Gaius Paulinus turned to his men. "You heard her. Form up! Advance"

Daenerys fell in behind them as they fast marched up a very long set of stairs. They met almost no resistance until they encountered a mage at the top of the steps. "Step back!" Daenerys stepped into the gap. "Yol! Toor! Shul!"

The burning corpse of the mage flew backward and slammed into a hard stone wall. With him out of the way, they marched on in unopposed. What had looked like the main building from the outside turned out to be merely a shell of a building. The walls opened to a circular courtyard open to the sky. Rather than finding a set of stairs leading down into a barrow, the courtyard was dominated by a large circular firepit that was set up to be used as a forge. "Let's give it a quick search to be sure there are no hidden entrances."

Their search turned up nothing. When they left the building they found that the battle was mostly over. There were underground tunnels and chambers, but Fultheim had already stormed them and killed everyone inside. There were no barrows or crypts below, no word wall. She set her men to looting the place and circulated about them healing the injured. Despite the lack of a word wall, this action had been a success in many ways. There had been no deaths and no major injuries. The loot from the bandits along with the bounty that Jarl Balgruuf had placed on the camp would help keep her coffers full. However, as a first test of her larger force in battle it had been a disappointment. The battle had descended into chaos. Her troops had fought as individuals, not a single unit.

Later that evening she gathered her advisors: Fultheim, Lydia, Sofija and Faralda in her command tent to discuss the battle. Camilla would have been included to her 'small council', but Daenerys had left her in Whiterun with a couple of bodyguards to handle her business affairs.

Fultheim agreed with her assessment about the breakdown of battle order. "That is my biggest concern as well. We won, but we fought like a rabble, not like an army. We didn't suffer for it today because we were fighting undisciplined bandits. If we had been fighting a professional force, they could have rolled over us once we spread out like that."

Daenerys sighed. "Was I wrong to advance as I did when I caught them all spread out?"

"Hmm." Fultheim frowned and considered that. "No, I would have done the same. You found the enemy spread out and you took advantage of the opportunity. The problem is that I have been training your forces to fight dragons using your dispersal tactics. I've trained them to spread out. Those tactics might work well against a dragon, but in battle against a disciplined force it will get us mauled."

Daenerys nodded. She had seen the Unsullied fight and understood the point. The marching and fighting in step had a purpose, when you faced a line of men you didn't fight one of them, you fought them all. The Dothraki didn't fight in an orderly fashion, but they had the advantage of speed being mounted. They also didn't fight alone, rallying together and attacking in waves, even when those waves were seemingly random. Was there a way to train her men to fight fluidly like that without horses? Maybe, with years of experience fighting side by side, but it was simply asking too much of the men she had today. "I agree. My plan is to continue to attack dragons, explore barrows, and sometimes assault bandit camps. However, there is a good chance that we'll have to face organized troops sooner or later."

"More training will help. More battles will help." Fultheim sighed. "But you don't have time, so what we need is more underofficers. They need to be able to focus the scattered men around them and give direction. It would probably help in fighting dragons as well. Right now, we have two: Jenassa and Salim. We would need more. Ideally one for every four or five. Even if they're underofficers, that's more than most armies use, but if you want to spread out but keep order, that's what you need."

"Very well," agreed Daenerys. "Anyone stand out?"

Fultheim shrugged. "No, or I would have suggested them already. That mercenary that you turned down, Uthgerd the Unbroken, she had the experience and presence to make a good underofficer."

Daenerys shook her head. "She was also rejected from the Companions for killing a lad during a practice duel. I know mistakes happen, but I'm a Companion. It wouldn't be right for me to accept someone that they turned away."

"I suppose not," agreed Fultheim. "Lydia also has the experience needed."

Lydia frowned. "If that is the command of my thane, but you know the Thalmor will come for her sooner or later. The Khajiit spy, Fishbreath you called him, he's proof of that. She needs full-time guards and there aren't many I trust beyond Sofija to share that task with me."

Sofija thumped her chest with her fist saluting Lydia, but didn't say anything.

"I agree with Lydia. While I am sometimes impatient about being guarded, it is critical. I trust Sofija and Lydia with my life." She had no doubt that Fultheim was correct that good underofficers would help. She just couldn't conjure them out of thin air. "What about the Imperials on detached duty? Gaius Paulinus at least would make a good underofficer. Some of the others might as well. They're disciplined."

"I agree on Gaius Paulinus. I expect he probably was an officer before he was assigned to detached duty with us. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the others were underofficer material. The real question is whether you are willing to put Imperial soldiers over your troops?"

Did she have a choice? "As underofficers of a small team? We don't have much to hide, and my forces can use the discipline and skills they'll bring." While it would give the appearance that her forces leaned to the imperial side, the benefits were worth it. "Let's start with Gaius Paulinus and two others." They could always add more later. "What about balancing them out. Would Ull or Val make a good underofficer?"

"Ull would be fine leading a scouting party, nothing else. Val is a good man and warrior. I recommend you keep him in the front when exploring barrows, but he'd make a bad officer."

"Very well. We're decided for now. Try out the Imperials and see if one or two of them can make underofficer. We'll keep looking for good recruits – no more inexperienced men that have to be trained up. Now, any other business?"

"I checked out the loot," said Faralda speaking up for the first time. "A few of the pieces have some minor enchantments, but nothing important. Also, there is not enough magical loot for everyone to get a personal choice. I think we would be better off selling everything and giving them an extra payment in gold."

Daenerys nodded. That was an easy decision to make. "Agreed. I will put Camilla on it when we return to Whiterun."

"I did find something else though," said Faralda. "It ties into the weapons with the interesting enchantments that I had never seen before, a lunar enchantment. Did you notice the forge? It's a hot pit burning on its own without fuel, like the Skyforge in Whiterun. However, this one reeks of lunar magic. There were some notes by the forge about experiments with the 'lunar forge' and that weapons forged when both moons align have special properties."

"That is interesting," agreed Daenerys. "On a clear day you can see from Silent Moons to Whiterun. I don't think it is a coincidence that there are two of these 'hot pits' so close together. I thought that skysteel weapons were just well-forged. Is skysteel enchanted?"

"Not really. All metals have a feel to them, and skysteel is distinct from steel, but it isn't enchanted." Faralda shrugged. "It's also possible that whoever was running the forge was making sacrifices. Using an enchanter's table and soul gems to enchant objects is the only enchanting method approved by the College of Winterhold and the Synod, but there are other darker methods. To be honest, you may be able to tell more than I could."

"How?" That made no sense. "You're so much better at reading enchantments than me." Of course, mer were usually better at reading enchantments than men.

Faralda chuckled. "Because I can't get close to the source. You could walk right into the forge where the magic is strongest."

"Ah." Daenerys thought about it a moment. "I'll give it a try later tonight when the moons are up and see what I can feel. I can also talk to Eorlund Greymane when we return to Whiterun. Now let's talk about our assault on Halted Stream Camp."

.oOo.

Two hours past midnight Daenerys took off her armor and laid it aside while Sofija, Faralda and Lydia watched. The moons were up and visible as she gingerly stepped into the lunar forge. While no amount of heat or fire had ever troubled her before, this was putting her affinity to fire to a greater test than she had ever tried before. This firepit was hot enough to soften metal, but she rather enjoyed the heat. It made her feel safe. She stepped out further and further to the center of the pit, looked up to the moons, and extended her senses.

"I think I feel something, but I can't tell. This may take a little while." She sat down crosslegged and meditated at the center of the firepit. She felt something immediately. She just couldn't tell what. She tried bringing up Yol, Fire, but that was a mistake. She immediately felt a wrongness to it and her head started to throb. No. Cautiously she tried Toor, Inferno, and had the same response. Shul, Sun, was even worse. Shul didn't just feel wrong. It seemed to make the power present angry. She gave up trying to meditate on words of power and instead offered up prayers of apology.

She opened her eyes and looked up to where everyone was watching her. "This was a mistake. Whatever power resides here is alive, and I offended it by accident. I think we should try an offering. Sofija, would you bring one of the corpses of the bandits? We can try that first."

Sofija thumped her chest. "Yes, my thane. I'll be right back."

"Daenerys," asked Faralda. "You don't know what you're feeding. Wouldn't it be safer to just walk out of that fire pit and for all of us to leave this place?"

"That… feels wrong." Oh gods, was she becoming a priest now? She was guessing, but it felt like she had trespassed, and she could either make things right or face the consequences. "I'm not giving it a living person. If a corpse doesn't work, we'll try a live animal. It will be fine." Although this was more a statement of hope than certainty. "I'll try meditating while we wait." Daenerys closed her eyes again and focused on her breathing and her magicka for a bit. She could feel air moving in and out of her lungs. She could feel her magicka flowing in and out. She could also feel something in the firepit. Ancient. Weakened. Offended. Hungry. Anticipating.

"My thane! I brought a corpse as commanded."

Daenerys opened her eyes and looked up and saw Sofija dragging the corpse of the mage that she had killed earlier. "She'll do. Toss her in."

Sofija took the corpse by the arms, Lydia by the feet. They swung her back and forth twice and then tossed her in. The dead woman's hair burst into flame immediately and her flesh charred. Her burning flesh smelled like pork for the short time she burned. The fire pit consumed the corpse quickly. Sitting in the middle of the pit, Daenerys felt like more than the body was consumed. She also felt the approval of the spirit of the firepit and its hunger. She was forgiven, but it wanted more. It offered power.

Daenerys licked her lips as she considered the offer. Did it merely consume that woman's body? Or her soul? Wasn't her soul already gone? What was the fire pit? Was it a daedra? She did need power. She was expected to defeat Alduin, the dragon who would destroy the entire world! How was she supposed to do that? They were just bandits. They had planned to mount the corpses on pikes before they left, as a warning to others not to turn bandit. Wouldn't this be a better use?

"Maybe," she said to the fire pit. "But not tonight. I will think on this, and I may return." Deliberately she walked away. While she did need power, she had no idea what it was that she would be feeding.

Everyone stared at her as she walked out, but they said nothing.

"It's alive. Daedra, aedra, spirit, I don't know what, but it's alive. This is a secret bound to us four. If anyone asks, I walked in and felt nothing. Swear."

"I so swear," said Sofija immediately, echoed shortly after by Lydia.

Faralda hesitated then nodded. "I so swear."

.oOo.

Daenerys had hoped they would be able to find Halted Stream Camp the next day. It wasn't an old Nord place and hadn't been on her list of places that might have word walls. Camilla had tracked down a list of all open bounties posted by Jarl Balgruuf and put them on a map. Halted Stream Camp was merely conveniently located. It was just a little bit east from Silent Moons Encampment. Taking out the camp would give her followers further combat practice and she could use the bounty and loot. Unfortunately, maps of Skyrim weren't all that accurate and there wasn't a road. She sent out scouts to find the way and used Clairvoyance to help. However, the lack of roads made travel slow, so they didn't arrive at the camp until after noon the next day.

The bandits at Halted Stream Camp shot a few arrows at them, but when they realized the size of her attacking forces, they all retreated behind their palisade. A short while later one man appeared at the top of the wall waving a white flag, which was the truce flag in Tamriel.

"Let him through. Let's hear what he has to say," ordered Daenerys.

As the man came closer, Daenerys realized he wasn't a man at all. He was a mer, a Bosmer to be specific, short with brown skin and dressed completely in leather. He also had more piercings than she'd seen before, three in one ear, two through his left eyebrow, another in his nose, and one on his lip that looked especially painful. "Hey there, we don't know who we pissed off bad enough to bring all this down on our heads, but we know when we're outmatched. We're just 'unters and miners tryin' to make a livin'. Any way we can just pay tribute? We know 'ow this fight would end."

Daenerys frowned. Was this Bosmer just playing dumb? "Jarl Balgruuf put a bounty on this camp for banditry and poaching. If you surrender, I can take you back to Whiterun to face his justice."

"M'lady that's not a fair shake. We're poachers, not bandits. Poachin' in Whiterun, that's 'ard labor in the bleedin' Jarl's chain gang for a few years, but bandits get their 'ead chopped if they're lucky."

The sound of a horn came from the far side of camp out beyond where Daenerys could easily see. "Stand! Until we know what is happening." She pointed to one of the younger Nords standing around with a sword in hand. "You, lad. Run see what's happened and report back.

The bosmer took off his hat and twisted it in his hands. "Bloody lack-ball cowards. We'll, I'm screwed now, aren't I?"

Daenerys eyed the Bosmer up and down. "Do you know what's happening?"

The bosmer shrugged. "Bugger them. They're makin' a ran for it out the bloomin' tunnel."

A few minutes later proved that the wood-elf was correct. They had tried to get out through an escape tunnel but ran into some of her men. The fight had been short and everyone who had tried to make a break for it was dead. Unfortunately, they had also killed one of her men and another one of her troops had only survived due to potions. That was the first topic when she met with her small council that night.

"So, we lost a man. Anything we could have done better?"

Fultheim shrugged. "No, our men did good. We'd spotted the pit, but it looked like a mammoth trap. We didn't know it connected to the mine. Too many men sallied from that one spot. Salim was on the spot and rallied our troops, they held the line until reinforcements came. I think it goes back to what we already know, we need more underofficers."

Daenerys nodded her acceptance. She didn't want to make too much of losing a single soldier. Battles weren't safe. "I already agreed about the underofficers. Fultheim, I want you to test the Bosmer we captured. I don't think he had strong ties to the poachers if they cut him free like that. We need scouts and archers. If he's any good, I'll talk Jarl Balgruuf. I can probably pay off his sentence as long as it is just poaching. We can cut him the same deal we did with Salim."

Fultheim nodded. "I'll give him a test, but if you make him a scout he could just ride out and not return."

"True, but he was honest about being a poacher, didn't try to deny it. He may be crooked, but I have the feeling his word is good."

"Very well," agreed Fultheim.

They talked for another hour, but the real discovery came after the meeting when Faralda showed her the enchanted items and other significant loot they had discovered. While Daenerys wasn't Faralda's apprentice any longer, she was still trying to improve her ability to sense enchantments by going over the enchanted loot with Faralda.

"And then there is this crystal." Faralda picked up a white crystalline orb "It has some kind of enchantment that even I couldn't pin down. Tell me what you make of it."

Daenerys took the crystalline orb without much thought. As soon as she touched the orb a loud feminine voice started yelling at her.

"A NEW HAND TOUCHES THE BEACON. LISTEN. HEAR ME AND OBEY. A FOUL DARKNESS HAS SEEPED INTO MY TEMPLE. A DARKNESS THAT YOU WILL DESTROY. RETURN MY BEACON TO MOUNT KILKREATH, AND I WILL MAKE YOU THE INSTRUMENT OF MY CLEANSING LIGHT."

Cleansing light was a major clue, but from her research into word walls, Daenerys knew who had a temple at Mount Kilkreath. "Meridia?"

Lydia gasped.

Faralda frowned. "The Daedra Princess, Meridia. Yes, that would fit. Well done, I didn't get that. Perhaps the crystal is consecrated to her?"

Daenerys studied the crystal in her hand, but it remained silent. "You didn't hear Merida speaking just now?" The clueless expressions on Faralda and Lydia's faces were answer enough. "I heard Meridia speak when I touched the crystal. She called it a beacon. She… invited me to cleanse her temple on Mount Kilkreath." Although it was more of an order than a request.

Faralda frowned. "No, I heard nothing."

Lydia put her sword away. "Neither did I."

"What do you intend to do about it?" asked Faralda.

Daenerys shrugged. "Nothing really to do. It would take weeks to reach Mount Kilkreath, and we're heading in the other direction. Although, there is a word wall by Meridia's temple, so we may go there someday. It's possible this beacon may be a key, like the dragon claws. For now we lock it away in a chest and forget about it."

"Tell no one?" asked Faralda.

"We'll tell Sofija, maybe Fultheim, but other than that, no. It won't do any good for anyone to know that we have a daedric artifact."

"That's certainly true," agreed Faralda. "Very well, another secret to keep."

"Your secrets are mine, my thane," added Lydia.

"Thank you." She was accumulating secrets at a frightening pace, but she didn't need secrets. She needed the ability to kill dragons. She needed knowledge and power. Did Meridia's offer to be the 'instrument of her cleansing light' give her any power? Or just more demands? For now it didn't matter. As soon as Eorlund Greymane finished her armor, they would be heading to the Greybeards and the Throat of the World was in the opposite direction. Meridia would just have to wait. At least for now.


	9. Chapter 8

# Chapter 8

Sundas, the 10th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys looked about for Farkas as she marched into Jorrvaskr. It was early in the afternoon and the main hall of Jorrvaskr was almost empty. There was still food on the tables. There was always food on the tables of Jorrvaskr, but no Companions. Only old Tilma and one of the serving wenches whose name she didn't know were present cleaning the place up. She wasn't sure what she would have done if Farkas had been here: slap him, hit him, or Shout at him, but she wasn't at all happy with him for dropping this mess in her lap. He'd claimed it was a simple mission, just go beat some milk drinker into submission, and don't ask questions.

Daenerys knew it wouldn't be a simple mission as soon as she heard the destination was Battle-born farm. The Battle-borns were an important clan of nobles in Whiterun, and they strongly supported the Imperial side of the civil war. Given that the Companions were believed to favor the Stormcloaks, it didn't make sense for someone to involve the Companions in solving any matter of honor at Battle-born farm. So, instead of just beating up a milkdrinker, she had done what Farkas told her not to do. She asked questions. Those questions had led to answers that she didn't like, and that had led her back here. Daenerys glanced back to make sure that both Alfhild Battle-born and Gwendolyn had followed her inside. Both the blonde Nords were still with her. They stood side-by-side arms crossed, the same sullen expression on their faces, and deliberately not looking at each other. If she didn't know that Gwendolyn was merely a retainer, she would have thought they were two sisters having a spat.

Sofija stood behind the pair. She shrugged when Daenerys met her gaze, but otherwise stayed silent and watchful.

"Sofija, go find Lydia and swap off. You need some rest. You've been getting too little of late."

Sofija hesitated. "My thane, we could send a servant to fetch Lydia. I can stand watch until she arrives."

Daenerys sighed. "Sofia, go. That's an order. We're in the halls of Jorrvaskr in the middle of the day. If an assassin does choose now to strike at me, there are probably a dozen Companions within earshot. I will be fine. Go get some rest. I'll wait here until Lydia arrives."

Sofija bowed stiffly. "As it is your command, I reluctantly obey."

Daenerys shook her head. Sofija had mellowed somewhat since she and Ull became lovers. She no longer jumped at her every word. However, she was also adopting Lydia's gift of agreeing while actually disagreeing. Daenerys didn't have a problem with her housecarls being dedicated to her safety. That was a good thing. She did have a problem with them pushing themselves too far. She probably needed more bodyguards, but that was a problem for another day.

She looked back at the two women she was escorting. Alfhild and Gwendolyn were still being sullenly silent. Waiting here in the dining hall or out on the patio for the next few hours for Jon Battle-born to arrive would certainly attract attention.

Daenerys looked in the direction of the prow. That would be perfect. The prow was a small room directly off the main hall. It took its name from being at one end of Jorrvaskr. The room was rarely used during the day. Officially it was a place where a member of the Circle could meet with someone looking to hire the services of the Companions. The prow did serve that purpose on occasion and held a table, a desk and some chairs for those meetings. However, the prow also held two beds with privacy curtains because the prow saw the most use at night. Hardly an evening meal went by when a Companion didn't scoop a serving wench up and carry her off to the prow accompanied by cheers and raucous laughter.

She found the custom a little distasteful, but hardly shocking. At least the Nords sought out privacy for their couplings – unlike the Dothraki or the freed slaves of Meereen. The serving wenches of Jorrvaskr also had the right to say no. She had never seen a single serving wench complain about being carried off. In fact, most of them flirted outrageously trying to gain attention. Delphine had warned her that there was a thin line between a tavern wench and a whore. In her opinion the women who served the Companions crossed that line. They were mostly young women, drawn by high wages and the hope of snaring a Companion as a husband. What annoyed her about the custom, was that it was all about the male Companions showing off their masculinity. Over-the-top wenching went along with the heavy drinking and bragging that Nords expected of their heroes.

Perhaps she should have paid more attention to Nord customs about lovers and children. From what she knew few if any of the serving wenches ever managed to marry a Companion. Many would be sent away with a bag of gold and a babe in their belly. Perhaps some of them found a husband that didn't mind raising a Companion's bastard, but she wouldn't be surprised if most of them didn't end up becoming whores. It probably wasn't something any of her fellow Companions thought or cared about. However, not all the servants of Jorrvaskr were young women. Old Tilda was sweeping the hall close by. She had stayed until she was old and grey, and there were a few other servants who worked in the kitchens in their middle years. So, it was possible for a servant to stay, just few did. However, none of this reflection was solving her problem.

Daenerys shook off her thoughts as she spied her other housecarl approaching. "Lydia, did Sofija fill you in on the situation?"

"She did, my thane."

Daenerys waited a moment until it became clear that Lydia wasn't going to volunteer any more without being directly asked to do so. "Any thoughts on the situation?"

"It is a difficult situation, my thane, but I believe you have chosen the honorable path. There is a saying that I think applies here. Honor isn't about making the right choices. It is about dealing with the consequences."

Daenerys smiled. Yes, that certainly applied to this situation. There were certainly many bad choices being made all around and a failure to face the consequences. She turned to face Alfhild and Gwendolyn. "Let's see if the prow is occupied. We can wait in there for Jon to arrive." That would attract less attention than sitting on the patio.

Tilma stopped her sweeping. "Are you talking about Jon Battle-born? He's already in the prow, dear. Your man arrived a little while ago and asked if he could lie down for a bit until you arrived."

Daenerys frowned. She should have known better than to ignore the servants and assume they wouldn't eavesdrop. However, she did need to nip this rumor in the bud. "Jon Battle-born is not my man." She had kept her meetings with him to the patio in plain sight of everyone to avoid rumors like this. "He is a bard interested in tales of my homeland, nothing more."

"I'm sorry, dear, but I'm just repeating what I've heard and seen. You're on the go all the time, rushing here, rushing there, but you make time to meet with a handsome young man to drink wine, watch the sunset, and share stories?" She shrugged. "I'm not doubting your word, Companion. From the look on your face, you really didn't mean it that way, but that kind of thing gets noticed."

Daenerys shook her head ruefully. "Everything I do gets noticed." Maybe she should take a lover. She could certainly afford to buy Dibella's tears now, and Nords were only judgmental about affairs when marriage vows were being broken. Although, knowing what she now knew about Jon Battle-born, he certainly wasn't an option despite his good looks and charm. At least he was already here, so she could get this matter settled. "Come along, you two. You both have some explaining to do."

She glanced back when she reached the door to the prow. Alfhild scowled, and Gwendolyn looked nervous, but both of them followed right behind her. However, when she turned the handle it didn't move. She tried again more forcefully, but it still didn't move. Why was it locked? Was Jon having a tryst with one of the serving wenches? That was all she needed. She listened a moment and didn't hear anything, but it was a thick door. She rapped on the door sharply. "Jon. It's Daenerys. We need to talk."

A short while later Jon Battle-born opened the door. He leaned against the frame in an attempt to be nonchalant, but he didn't quite pull it off. "Well-met, Lady Targaryen. You're here early... Why are my sister and... her farmhand with you?"

Daenerys kept her temper in check as Jon dropped several notches in her esteem. It was really no business of hers who he slept with, but after his speech about poncy bards chasing serving maids she had expected better of him. "Chase whatever serving wench you tumbled out. As I said, we need to talk. You, your sister, myself, and Gwendolyn. Or we could have the discussion out here for all of Jorrvaskr to hear."

"Come on in." Jon backed up out of the doorway and waved them all in with a bow. "You'll find no serving wenches in here."

Daenerys walked on in and moved to stand by the desk. The bed was rumpled, which proved nothing as Jon had asked for a place to lie down. It was Jon's stoic face that gave him away. He was usually more open. He was obviously hiding something. In this case literally. She would bet gold that there was a girl under one of the beds or hiding in the closet. Under the circumstances Daenerys felt the girl deserved to hear what this was about as well. Daenerys directed a glare at Gwendolyn. "Tell him now, or I will."

Gwendolyn took a deep breath. "Jon, I'm pregnant with your child."

The high-pitched shriek of "What?!" from under the far bed came as no surprise whatsoever to Daenerys. However, the woman who rolled out and stomped toward Jon was a surprise. Olfina Grey-mane was certainly not a serving wench. She was in and out of Jorrvaskr frequently to assist her uncle Vignar. Olfina was also a warrior maid in her own right and sometimes trained with her uncle on the practice grounds. Daenerys suspected that Vignar was grooming her to be a Companion someday.

The Grey-manes and the Battle-borns were the two most powerful noble clans in Whiterun. From what she understood the two of them had been friendly rivals for generations. They competed against each other for position, but they had also intermarried in the past. Those bonds of kinship had kept the rivalry from getting out of control. Both clans were united in support of Whiterun and in freezing out other lesser clans. However, the Stormcloak rebellion had changed all that. Especially after the Imperials killed Thorald Grey-mane, the heir apparent to the Grey-mane clan. Now the two clans were openly hostile and there had been several brawls and one duel fought already. She wouldn't have guessed that Olfina and Jon were lovers, but apparently Jon wasn't that exclusive.

Olfina stomped over to Jon Battle-born and slapped him hard across the face. "So, you've been two-timing me with that peasant? How dare you! We're through. My family was right about you Battle-borns! I never want to see you again!"

She turned to leave, but Jon grabbed her wrist. "Funny that. 'I never want to see you again.' Those are the same words you said to me the one night I slept with her. Don't you remember? The night you heard your brother had died."

Olfina turned back. Her face was still angry, and she did not close the distance between them, but she didn't try to pull away either. "I was upset. We made up two days later. You obviously don't feel as I do as you didn't even wait a day before finding someone new."

"You weren't the only one who was upset. I went to see my sister. I did a lot of drinking and..." He shrugged. "Gwen was willing to help me forget. You don't get to throw me out and still own me."

Daenerys was as transfixed by the drama playing out as everyone else. Mentally, she apologized to Jon. Apparently, he wasn't as big a hypocrite and womanizer as she had thought. He was just guilty of letting his cock do his thinking for him - not all that unusual for a man.

Gwendolyn spoke up quietly. "What about me, Jon? There has been no one else. The baby is yours."

Alfhild slapped Gwendolyn. "Shut up. Your betters are talking. You got exactly what you wanted. Don't pretend to be the victim here. It's Jon that fell into your honey trap."

Gwendolyn bowed her head and sobbed.

"Enough, Alfhild! Strike her again and I strike you." Of all the actors in this mess, she disliked Alfhild the most, yet she was her employer. "We will discuss this as adults, not children." She looked back at Jon and Olfina. They hadn't moved from the positions, still standing far apart and still holding hands. "Let me cut through the crap. Jon, you and Olfina are lovers. Olfina, you told Jon that you didn't want to see him any longer. He slept with Gwendolyn. She's pregnant with Jon's child. Then Alfhild you hired me to beat up Gwendolyn until she agreed to take Dibella's tears – and Jon didn't know until right now. Have I left out anything important?"

"Yes!" insisted Alfhild. "She can't have his child. It's wrong! It goes against nature." She calmed a little. "And our father… Oh, Jon what have you done? Olfina? He might just disown you over this."

Daenerys set aside the comment about the Battle-borns disowning Jon to focus on the other statement. "You called this child unnatural before, but you still haven't explained why."

Alfhid glared at Gwendolyn. "Isn't it obvious? Look at them. Look at all of us. She's his sister! On the wrong side of the sheets, of course, but still his sister. Now, she's trying to do the same thing as her mother, get a nice pension for life for raising a Battle-born bastard – with her own brother."

Jon and Olfina dropped hands and made faces. Even Lydia recoiled. Daenerys took a moment to recall that incest was a taboo in Tamriel, just as it was on most of Planetos. However, she had grown up being told that she would wed her brother Viserys someday. He had told her often that she would bear his children. It hadn't been something she had been looking forward to, but it had been her future until he sold her to Khal Drogo.

"Gods. I didn't know." Jon was actually pale. "I simply didn't know." He looked at Gwendolyn. "You knew?"

Gwendolyn looked down. "I knew, but you don't feel like my brother, and I won't give up my child."

Olfina shook her head. "Jon, things were already impossible for us before. When word of this gets out, my parents will hate you even more."

Daenerys decided it was time to wade into this farce. "I'm not from Tamriel. In Westeros when a nobleman fathers a bastard, the mother is given some gold. If the noble is married, he'll probably send her to another hold to get her farther from his wife. I understand the Companions do much the same for serving wenches who turn up pregnant. Is that not what is done in Skyrim?"

Alfhild scowled. "It would be normally. That's why Gwendolyn has her own house on our farm. Her mother was given a cottage and a remittance, but to have her brother's child. She'll bring shame on the entire clan. You were supposed to handle this quietly, but you've dragged it all into the light."

"I will not force her to drink Dibella's tears." What a mess. "Why not just pay her off and send her away. Don't give her a single payment. She'll collect her remittance as long as she keeps her silence."

"I'll accept those terms," said Gwendolyn. "I don't want to bring shame to the family or to Jon."

"I don't like her being rewarded when she knew Jon was her brother. She knew exactly what she was doing when she slept with Jon, and I'm sure she was at her most fertile. Mother's blood will tell." Alfhild sighed. "But you're giving us no choice. Jon, you'll have to tell father. I won't do it. If I take it out of the funds for the farm, he'll spot it in the ledger books. I won't have him thinking I am stealing from the family."

Jon nodded. "I'll tell him. What will you say about Olfina?"

Olfina Grey-mane extracted her hand from Jon's and folded her arms. "You act like you're forgiven, Jon Battle-born."

Alfhild studied Olfina. "We weren't always enemies. Out of my respect for past friendships, I'll hold my tongue. Although I doubt that Olfina will hold hers."

Daenerys decided to step in. "So, it's settled. Jon will inform his parents of the child. Gwendolyn will get a remittance. Jon and Olfina can resolve their own issues."

There was sullen agreement all around, and they all started to file out.

"Olfina, stay." It was a spur of a moment decision, but maybe she could help a little, and help herself in the process. "You shouldn't be seen leaving with Jon Battle-born, and I would like a word with you."

Olfina nodded and waited behind as the Battle-born siblings departed. She obviously looked upset, but she waited patiently.

Daenerys broke the silence. "You love him." Daenerys held up a hand as Olfina started to speak. "That much is obvious. Whether love is enough for you to forgive him, you haven't decided yet. Nor will I tell you what to do. I just want to let you know that you should not take too long. I'm going to be leaving Whiterun soon. I need strong warriors and especially leaders. If you decide you want to be with him, then you should both come with me. Show your families that Battle-borns and Grey-manes can still work together for Skyrim."

Olfina frowned. She started to speak, and then paused. "Our parents would still disown us. They hate each other now."

"Would they really? I find it hard to believe that any Nord family would disown a son or daughter who signed up to fight dragons. Especially when I already have the support of the Stormcloaks, the Imperials, and Jarl Balgruuf. Is the prospect of fighting dragons truly less scary than telling your family?"

Olfina laughed. "Have you met my father? I will think on this. I'm not sure I can forgive Jon. Even if I forgive him, I'm not sure that I can trust him ever again."

"That is for you to decide." Although Daenerys was certain she would forgive Jon. She had seen the way the two held hands even after the revelation.

"Lady Targaryen?" asked Olfina. "Why do you care?"

Daenerys shrugged. "Because I could use two good officers, and this will help mend the Battle-born/Grey-mane feud. Surely you agree that the feud has gotten out of hand?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll think about it." Olfina gave a slight curtsey and left.

Daenerys stayed in the room a moment after Olfina left. What she had said was true. She did need good officers, and the Battle-born/Grey-mane feud was needlessly bitter. However, that wasn't the real reason. It was silly in a way that she just wanted to help two lovers find happiness. In the grand scheme of things, the happiness of two people wasn't all that important. However, the last time she'd thought that way, she'd burned down a city to save 'the future generations'. She needed the little things, like saving the orphan girl, Lucia, and hopefully getting these two lovers together.

She looked over to Lydia. "Do you think she and Jon will accept?"

Her housecarl smiled. "I don't know, my thane. I pray to Mara that they will."

Daenerys smiled. She didn't really believe in the gods that much, but she offered a little prayer to Mara, that the two of them would get back together. It couldn't hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that reaches the end of my rapid posting. Expect updates roughly once a week going forward.


	10. Chapter 9

# Chapter 9

Morndas, the 11th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Despite Farkas telling her not to ask questions and to just fulfill her mission, Daenerys suffered no repercussions for not using her fists to solve the problem. Of course, that might be because the Alfhild Grey-mane had been the one to hire the Companions. Daenerys doubted that Alfhild complained about the outcome, but she sat down in Kodlak’s chair and confessed to him anyway.

“Force a woman to take Dibella’s tears?” Kodlak scowled and his voice rumbled like the thunder of a gathering storm. “You did well to refuse. There is no honor in beating up a pregnant woman. I’ll be having a few quiet words with Farkas about the missions he accepts on behalf of the Companions.” His tone made it clear that while his words might be quiet, Farkas was going to get the message. Kodlak shook his head and changed the subject. “I hear that Eorlund is almost done with your armor. Does this mean you’ll be leaving us soon?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Daenerys was a bit surprised to realize that was the truth. She would miss the Companions and the camaraderie she’d found with them, just as she missed the friends she’d left behind at the College of Winterhold. However, she knew she couldn’t stay. “I’ll be heading to High Hrothgar to talk to the Greybeards. I really didn’t plan to linger in Whiterun this long, but you will see more of me for the next few days. I’m hoping to convince some of the Companions to join me. Torvar has already expressed interest, but he wants permission from you or the Circle.”

“Permission?” Kodlak laughed. “He doesn’t need permission. We’re the Companions. Every man his own. Every woman her own. If Torvar needs permission, maybe he should go ask his mother.”

Daenerys could help but laugh at the image of Torvar asking his mother for permission. However, she also knew that Kodlak didn’t need to order the Companions. They followed him because of their deep respect for him. No matter what Kodlak said about not being in charge, few Companions would join her cause without seeking his consent. “Perhaps your blessing then? Would you mind saying a few words at dinner?”

Kodlak scratched his beard and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He chuckled. “No, not a good idea at all. I give you my blessing, and then you stand up and give a speech about killing dragons? I’ve heard you talk. You have a way of speaking to men’s hearts, and a good many of them want redemption after we got our asses kicked by the dragon you killed. My blessing would be like the rock tossed down a hill that starts an avalanche. I’m fine with some of the Companions joining you, but not the whole lot. You can talk to whoever you please. Some of them will join you. I’m certain of that. You can even send Torvar to me. I will let him know that he can go, but we’re the Companions, not the Dragonguard.”

She nodded ruefully. She couldn’t really argue the point because she knew just how much Kodlak’s blessing would sway Companions to her cause. She didn’t really believe that she was as eloquent as Kodlak claimed. She knew that she wasn’t terrible at persuading men, but she had been treated differently when she was just Daenerys the tavern wench. Her words had weight because of the legend of the Dragonborn and the comet in the sky, not because she had a silver tongue. “Very well, I’ll convince them the hard way.”

Despite Kodlak’s confidence in her persuasive ability, she didn’t have much success. Njada Stonearm turned her down flat, but Daenerys had expected that. She didn’t care to much for Njada and the feeling was mutual. Athis declined because as much as he preferred daggers, small quick blades were better for killing men, not dragons. Ria and Farkas were both off on missions. Several other Companions politely declined. Daenerys finally found the one she wanted to recruit most, Aela the Huntress, talking with Skjor. Both were part of the Circle, and Daenerys didn’t think they were likely to join, but Aela was the only Companion that was an expert archer. She was at least going to ask.

The huntress was one of the few Companions that favored leather armor over heavy, and she was the only member of the Circle who didn’t wear the special wolf armor. As Daenerys walked up, Aela broke off her conversation with Skjor. She turned and gave Daenerys a feral grin. “Skjor and I were just talking about you. We heard you were making the rounds. Anyone agree to join you?”

“Torvar is interested. He just wanted to talk with Kodlak first. As much as I welcome his sword, or yours.” Daenerys nodded to Skjor. “I would welcome your bow even more. Dragons fly.”

Skjor stepped forward. His left eye was a milky white from an old injury, but it didn’t slow him down and only made his gaze more fierce. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Aela. “We were talking about that as well.”

Daenerys didn’t know how anyone could look at the pair and not know that they were lovers. Although they denied the rumors, it was obvious. The way they stood, the way they moved, and their looks at each other, made it so obvious. She had heard that wolves mated for life and whenever she saw them side-by-side, Daenerys believed it. “And did you decide anything?”

“Yes,” said Skjor. “But this is not the place to discuss it. Tonight, after the sun goes down, meet us at the entrance to the Underforge.”

This was the first time she’d ever even heard of the Underforge. “I take it that it’s called that because it lies under the Skyforge. Where is this entrance?” Because she had never seen a door in the rock wall beneath the forge.

Aela laid a hand on Skjor’s bicep. It was just a touch, but she had seen kisses with less passion. “The entrance is concealed. There is hidden lever, but it’s difficult to find. Look for Skjor. He will be standing by the wall outside. I’ll be waiting inside.”

Daenerys wondered just what was going on that required a secret meeting place, but this didn’t feel like a trap. Both Aela and Skjor were too forthright for that. If they had wished her harm, they would have simply attacked her. The only thing she could think of was that they wanted to do something that Kodlak wouldn’t approve of. “I’ll be there with Lydia.”

Skjor nodded. “Tonight, shield sister.” He turned and walked away.

“Tonight,” echoed Aela as she turned to follow him.

Daenerys spent a few hours talking to other Companions. Word had gotten around and they knew what she would ask before she opened her mouth. Some asked questions, but only Tovar committed to joining her. Vignar Grey-mane did have interesting news for her.

“I’m a bit too old to fight dragons, but has my niece, Olfina, spoken with you yet?”

“No, she hasn’t.” Nor had she seen Jon Battle-born since the confrontation in the prow.

“Hrmph. She told the family she would be joining you. Told us, mind you. She didn’t ask. Just declared she would be joining the Dragonguard and practically dared the family to make an issue of it.” He chuckled. “She’s getting more like her mother every day.”

Daenerys smiled at that. “I will certainly be glad to have her.” Although she had to wonder if Olfina would be joining with or without Jon Battle-born.

“You better bring her back alive.” Despite the jocular tone, there was a serious edge to his words.

Daenerys smirked at him. “I’ll be sure to tell Olfina you said that.”

Vignar sputtered a moment and then laughed. “That’s a low blow there. I’m just looking out for my family.”

“So that’s a yes, you want me to tell her?” She grinned at his flustered expression. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her, and she’ll be trained to fight dragons. I know their strengths, their weaknesses, and how to exploit them. To fight a dragon is to dance with death, but gods willing, she’ll come home. If not, you’ll see her in Sovngarde.”

“You’re just like her and her mother. No talking sense into any of you.” He sighed and shook his head. “Well, then looks I’m coming with you.”

“Really?” Vignar was getting on in years. She thought his fighting days were done. She had never seen him in the practice yard.

“Is that really so hard to believe? I fought that dragon you killed. Didn’t land a blow on it, but I survived. I know what I’m getting into. She’s family and too stubborn for her own good. Someone has to look out for her.” He stuck out his hand. “I will raise my shield in your defense.”

Daenerys reached out grasped Vignar, not in the handshake of greeting, but as the Companions did, clasping his forearm while he clasped hers. “I will stand at your back that the world may never overtake us.”

“I will raise my sword in your honor,” continued Vignar.

“And my mace stands ready to face the blood of your foes.” Daeneryrs smiled at him. “Good to have you, shield-brother.”

Vignar released his clasp. “May the Nine watch over us, shield-sister.”

.oOo.

Daenerys waited until the sun had fully set before going to meet Skjor and Aela at the Underforge. She found Skjor standing by the rock wall beneath the Skyforge. It was a clear night, but the moons were high overhead making him easy to find. He stared at her with the same flat gaze that he usually had. Daenerys could easily imagine him plotting how to kill her before she could get off a Shout.

“About time. I see you brought your housecarl. Was she with you at Dustman’s Cairn?”

“Yes, Lydia was with me at Dustman’s Cairn.” She was a bit annoyed that Skjor was making an issue of it now. She’d told him that she was bringing Lydia with her.

“Then she can watch.” Skjor shifted his gaze to Lydia and growled a warning. “But you will say nothing about what happens in the Underforge.”

Lydia didn’t flinch. “I am sworn to keep my thane’s secrets.”

Daenerys decided to interrupt the staring contest. She did not appreciate Skjor trying to intimidate her sworn follower. “What exactly is the Underforge?”

Skjor turned his gaze back to her. “Here's all you need to know. Jorrvaskr is the oldest building in Whiterun. The Skyforge was here long before it was, and the Underforge taps ancient magic that is older than men or elves. We bring you here to make you stronger. Are you prepared?”

Stronger? Her mind raced. Did that mean what she thought it meant? She had just been accepted as a Companion. Surely, they weren’t going to induct her into the Circle! It was far too soon, but that would explain the secrecy. Kodlak was trying to stamp out the ‘blessing’ of Hircine, not spread it. In fact, it seemed obvious in hindsight.

“Well?” growled Skjor. “Are you prepared?”

“I am,” replied Daenerys, but she was far from certain. She was stalling for time. She hadn’t really considered becoming a werewolf herself. Partly because she had believed it would take years to be judged ready. Partly because Kodlak was trying to put an end to the practice.

“Are you certain? This is no test, new blood. This is a gift. Come inside.” He touched some hidden mechanism and a concealed door receded revealing a passageway. Skjor stalked inside.

Daenerys followed Skjor down a rough-hewn tunnel trying to decide if she wanted this ‘gift’ or not. Unfortunately, the tunnel was quite short and almost immediately opened up into a small circular chamber. In the center of the room was a rough stone basin on a pedestal, but it was no birdbath. It was stained the color of dried blood. Standing behind the stone basin was a werewolf.

She had seen Farkas as a werewolf, but at a farther distance, and Farkas had been fighting the Silver Hand. This time Daenerys had time to really study the creature. Aela, for it could be no one else, stood head and shoulders taller than Skjor in her wolf form. Her hands and feet seemed huge, vastly larger than a human would be if scaled up to that size. Enormous claws the size of daggers sprouted from her hands. The head of the werewolf was also much larger than human and with equally large teeth. Fur of a dark mottled grey was the creature’s only covering. Because Daenerys was looking she could make out the swells of slight breasts, only two, but the fur was thick enough to preserve Aela’s modesty.

Skjor went to stand beside Aela. He stroked her fur gently and then turned to face Daenerys. “I’m glad you came. It has been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers. That pitiful ceremony behind the hall does not befit warriors like us. You are due more honor than some calls and feasting. I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form. She’s agreed to be your forebear. We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we’ve been cursed, but we’ve been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse? So, we take matters into our own hands. To reach the heights of the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf.”

Grandfather had warned her to beware the Daedric Princes. They certainly seemed to be a lot more involved in the world. First Azura, then Meridia, and now Hircine. This was not like the lunar forge where she was dealing with an unknown entity with vague promises of power. Or Meridia’s demand to clean up her temple and become her ‘instrument of cleansing light’. With Hircine she knew exactly what was being offered – vastly improved combat prowess. She also knew the cost, her soul would be forfeit to Hircine, claimed by him after death to roam his Hunting Grounds. That didn’t scare her all that much. She had too much innocent blood on her hands. She deserved much worse than the Hunting grounds when she died. To be honest she was more concerned about disappointing Kodlak. He was a good leader and a good man. On the practical side she would have to keep it a closely held secret. Werewolves were generally regarded as monsters that needed to be slain.

Skjor scowled at her. “You’re quiet. You said you were prepared. Are you having doubts now about joining your spirit with the beast world?”

Daenerys shook her head. “It’s not the joining that I fear. It’s being discovered. If my followers learn that I am a werewolf, will they still follow me? Even a werewolf cannot defeat a dragon alone.”

“You worry too much,” replied Skjor dismissively. “The Companions have kept this secret for generations. Just don’t transform where they can see you. Even in human form you will be faster and stronger. Your senses will be sharper, and you will recover more quickly from injuries. We will not force you, but you are already a predator. This will just make you a better one.”

Daenerys frowned as she continued to weigh the offer. There was much to gain: faster, stronger, better senses, and faster recovery. The Hunting Grounds were better than she deserved. So what if Kodlak wouldn’t approve? She was leaving Whiterun and he had made it clear that his support was limited. She would still try to help him find a cure. Would it cost her the help of the Aedra? Talos had already sent Grandfather. However, she wasn’t Grandfather. She believed the Aedra were real, but she wasn’t a priest to just trust in the gods that everything would work out. **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** had almost killed her. The speed, power, and stamina of a werewolf was an edge that she could use to survive the next dragon and the other challenges she faced. If the gods turned their back on her for that, so be it. She’d make her own way.

“Yes. I’m ready.” She said it forcefully. One of the lessons of being a queen. It was always important to appear confident, no matter what doubts and fears you had inside.

“Then strip. You don’t want to be wearing armor when you make the change.”

“Unless it is Eorlund’s special wolf armor?” Daenerys asked as she began by removing her belt and setting aside her weapons.”

“Even wolf armor is a painful to change in, shield-sister. Always strip if you have time.” Skjor drew a dagger and approached Aela. She lifted up her paw and offered her arm to him. Skjor grabbed her by the paw and calmly slit her wrist. Blood spurted forth, it was the kind of wound that could prove fatal. Indeed, she had heard that some committed suicide by slashing the wrists, but Aela’s wound seemed to already be sealing on its own.

Daenerys shucked off her boots. Lydia helped her get the rest of the armor off and she was soon naked.

Skjor nodded his approval. “The blood calls, sister, and waits for you to drink from the fountain.”

Daenerys stepped toward the basin which was now filled with thick red blood. She once ate the raw heart of a stallion. She could do this. She lowered her face to the blood. Rather than lap at it like a dog she submerged her face into it and drank deeply. It tasked like blood, but it burned her throat going down. She thought her stomach would revolt at first, but after the first few gulps it stopped tasting disgusting. It tasted delicious. The most intense and satisfying drink that she had ever tasted. She continued gulping blood from the font, not even pausing to breathe. The blood lit a fire in her belly like strong alcohol, a fire that spread out into her limbs and then turned to pain.

With a cry she fell to the floor as whipcracks of pain surged through her body. Her arms and legs twitched. It felt like thousands of ants crawled along her skin biting and stinging as fur sprouted all over her body. Her bones ached and her sight vision swam, and she rolled on the floor. Her cries of pain turned to whines and growls. She pushed herself up onto all fours and howled in pain.


	11. Chapter 10

# Chapter 10

Tirdas, the 12th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era  


Daenerys awoke naked to find Aela the Huntress already dressed and standing over her in human form. She frowned as she tried to recall what had happened. It felt almost like a dream. After she became the wolf, she had followed Skjor and Aela down a secret passage and out of Whiterun. Lydia had tried to follow them, but they had quickly left her behind. Once in the farmland surrounding Whiterun they had moved like shadows through the night avoiding the houses of the farmers. In the woods they had tracked down an elk, killed him easily, and feasted on his corpse. After that they had led her here. Skjor had returned to human and gone off somewhere. Aela had returned to human a little later and dressed. There had been armor and weapons in the hollow log in this clearing.  
  
“Good, you’re awake. I was starting to think you might never come back. Yours was not an easy transformation, but you're still alive, so congratulations.”  
  
Was not coming back a possibility? Kodlak had mentioned that the Companions put down feral werewolves, so apparently there had been a danger that she hadn’t even considered. She hoped that becoming a werewolf was worth the price she paid. She didn’t feel stronger or faster, but she could see quite well despite the lack of moonlight, and she hear and smell so much all around her. There was also a hunger inside her despite her feasting on the elk during their run. “So, I’m a werewolf now?”  
  
“Yes, you’re one of us now. You were born into the pack, sister. I almost envy you. That first time is always the most... intense. You gave us even more trouble than Farkas did at his first turning.”  
  
Trouble? Daenerys remembered snarling at Skjor when he growled at Lydia. They also kept snapping at her when she wanted to feast upon the sheep and cows that… Oh, that was what Aela meant. Probably a good thing that they kept her from eating someone’s livestock. “How long will it take before I have full control?”  
  
Aela shrugged. “As I said, the first changing is the most intense. The next time you will have more control and remember more. How long until you have full control varies. Your wolf is strong.”  
  
Daenerys heard a cry not far from here, the sound of a man in pain. Aela looked in the direction of the scream and smiled. “You should get dressed. We have a celebration planned for you. There's a pack of werewolf hunters camped nearby, at Gallows Rock. The Silver Hand. I think you've met them before. We're going to slaughter them. All of them. Skjor's already scouting ahead.”  
  
Daenerys frowned at that even as she reached inside the hollow log. She could smell the steel of the armor. What she found inside wasn’t her armor. It didn’t have her scent on it, nor was it the leather armor with steel reinforcement that she had started wearing after inhaling **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir**. When she pulled the armor out it gleamed in the moonlight like polished silver. She ran a hand over the breastplate appreciatively and noticed that a three-headed dragon was etched into the breastplate in fine lines. The helm and the rest of the armor were done in the same style. The arms and legs had a scale pattern despite being solid skysteel. The helm was a work of art with a dragon perched on top with its wings outstretched. The craftsmanship was simply amazing. “My armor! But Eorlund said it wouldn’t be ready for a few days yet.”  
  
Aela laughed. “Skjor and I talked with Eorlund. We told him that we had something special planned. Normally when we induct someone into the Circle it would be a set a wolf armor, but Eorlund put so much effort into this it would be a shame for you not to wear it. It’s so pretty it almost makes me want to wear metal instead of leathers.”  
  
Daenerys hid her surprise that Aela would call anything, even a suit of armor, pretty. She felt like she could just stare at her armor for hours, but now wasn’t the time. Skjor was out there fighting alone. She could hear more shouting and cries of pain in the distance. She tried to dress quickly. However, the fastenings were not familiar to her. There were no buckles. Instead, two little bars of metal pinched the straps together. Once she figured out how to adjust the straps and pull them tight, they felt snug enough. She had reasoned that Eorlund had done something special to the wolf armor, so it would fall apart rather than crushing the wearer when they transformed. He had apparently done the same for her armor. This meant that Skjor and Aela had been planning this for some time. Even once she worked out the fastenings, it wasn’t easy to dress herself and Aela wasn’t offering to help. It wasn’t easy, but she finally managed to don her new armor.  
  
Once she was fully armored, Daenerys took a few experimental steps. She knew that the armor weighed more than the leather and steel she used to wear, but it felt lighter. How much of that was due to Eorlund’s skill and how much was due to the blood of the werewolf, she couldn’t say. Both the armor and her new strength felt good, but she didn’t like the idea of just charging into battle with untested armor and abilities, especially against the Silver Hand. While Aela seemed to look forward to the battle, the Silver Hand were no pushovers. She had fought them, and they were not undisciplined bandits. They didn’t simply charge into battle. They used tactics and ranged weapons. “How many Silver Hand?”  
  
Aela shrugged. “A couple of dozen maybe by their tracks. However many there are, there will be a lot less come morning.”  
  
Three against ‘a couple dozen’ was not wise. Yes, there was a difference between a real warrior and the average unskilled soldier or bandit. She had seen the difference with her own eyes with Jorah Mormont, Grey Worm, Barristan Selmy, and others. However, raw numbers could overcome any skill. That was how Jorah and Barristan died. The most dangerous combination was numbers and skill together, like the Unsullied or the Empire’s legionaries. The Silver Hand wasn’t that good, but they obviously trained, and they fought as a team, not individuals. “This is foolish. We should have brought more men.”  
  
“That’s fear talking, wolf-sister. You’re stronger now and faster too. It takes a lot to put even one of us down. You need to face your fear and learn just how strong you are. Against three of us they’re just sheep for the slaughter. I am going. Will you raise your shield in my defense?  
  
Daenerys wasn’t happy about this, but she wasn’t going to leave her shield-brother and sister to fight alone. She also found she had an eagerness for the fight that she’d never felt before. “I will stand at your back so that the world may never overtake us.”  
  
“I will raise my bow in your honor,” continued Aela.  
  
“And my mace stands ready to face the blood of your foes,” she replied. This was still foolish, and it bothered her that she was looking forward to the fight. She’d never enjoyed fighting. It had been something she’d done only because it was necessary.  
  
“Come wolf-sister. It is past time we teach the Silver Hand who is the hunter and who is the prey.” Aela took off at a jog moving through the woods with the sureness of a deer.  
  
Daenerys followed after her and found it easier than she expected. Even without any moonlight, she could see quite well in the darkness. Her new armor felt lighter than her old armor, and keep up with Aela was easy.  
  
However, despite the eagerness inside her, she wasn’t comfortable with attacking like this. This whole thing was just so stupidly Nord. There were many things she admired about Nords. They laughed easily. They put a high priority on family and honor. She would trust the simple word of a Nord more than a document signed and witnessed. Nord women were more equal to men than women anywhere on Planetos with the possible exception of Dorne. The Nords honored their gods but didn't ram their religion down others’ throats. She even liked that they expected more from their leaders. There were also things she didn't like about Nords, like the way they drank themselves stupid. She didn't mind a glass of wine sometimes, but what was the point of drinking yourself sick?  
  
None of those things bothered her as much as the way Nords played at war. For Nords battle was all about honor. They saw battle as a proving ground. A good death in battle was to be celebrated rather than mourned. That was central to their entire worldview. Nords believed that it wasn't the life you lived, but how you faced death that determined if you made it into Sovngarde. Nords lived for this. Skjor and Kodlak against one hundred and one orc berserkers. Five hundred Companions versus the entire Snow Elf empire. Daenerys admired their courage, but battle wasn't a game.  
  
She couldn’t help but compare this planning fiasco against what she’d been reading in _The Art of War Magic_. Know your enemy. Know your battleground. Most battles are won or lost before the first blood is even shed. Words of wisdom that she could have used in her past life. Tyrion was a very smart man and gifted at ruling, but he had been altogether lacking as a general. However, even he would have told her that attacking an enemy encampment with just three people was foolish. Yet here she was doing it anyway. It wasn’t just the new hunger in her belly. It was more because her oaths meant something to her. Skjor and Aela would still go in there even if she backed out. Even though it was foolish she wasn’t going to abandon her shield-brother and shield sister to face the Silver Hand without her – which made her just as foolish as them. Damn all Nords!  
  
Her self-reflection cut off when they reached their destination. She had been expecting a barrow. Instead, this was one of Whiterun’s long-abandoned border fortresses. This one had fallen in war and not just from time passing. The stone walls were breached and collapsed in a dozen places and large central tower was just a shell. The whole place reeked of blood and Daenerys was amazed how much she could tell by scent. There was no one still alive. Just four corpses cooling in the night. She could also smell another wolf, but she couldn’t tell where. There was too much blood and death.  
  
Aela had no such difficulty. “Come one. We’ll loot later. Skjor went this way.” She led the way to a door at the base of the tower and inside to a tunnel that sloped downward into what had once been the basement of this fortress.  
  
Daenerys followed along behind Aela. She could hear the shouts of combat up ahead, but Skjor obviously wasn’t waiting for them. They passed two more dead Silver Hands. The light was better in here and Daenerys noticed that Skjor must still be in human form as they had been killed by a sword and not by tooth and claw. They were getting closer and could hear the clash of steel and cries of men.  
  
Unfortunately, in their headlong rush they triggered a trap. Aela was well in front and Daenerys had no time to react when a spiked wall swung out and slammed into the huntress. Her leather armor offered almost no protection and it was mere luck that she was only impaled through the thigh. Aela howled in pain.  
  
Daenerys rushed forward and helped Aela limp off the spike. She was alarmed by the amount of blood that started oozing out of the wound once Aela was free. “Hold still I got you.” Daenerys summoned her Will, Focused on Aela’s pain, and the simple Seeming of compassion and desire to ease her wolf-sister’s pain. The golden light of healing magic bloomed in her hands and enveloped the wound. As soon as Daenerys released her focus on the Seeming, her emotions shifted from compassion to anger. “You’ll live. Now let’s get Skjor. Maybe from here on out we can act like we’re the Companions and watch each other’s back instead of charging in like a bunch of orc berserkers.”  
  
Aela frowned at her briefly, but then she laughed. “My, my, wolf-sister, what big teeth you have.”  
  
“Huh?” asked Daenerys. What did that even mean?  
  
Aela laughed louder. “Nevermind, I’ll explain later. It sounds like Skjor is just up ahead. Let’s catch up and we can both scold him for hogging all the kills.”  
  
They caught up with Skjor fighting in what must have been the dungeon of the fallen fortress. Two long corridors lined with cells were mostly empty, but a werewolf was howling in one of the cells and rattling the bars trying to escape. There were several Silver Hand corpses on the stone floor, and Skjor was still fighting two men with shields. The two men worked well together, but they were both on the defensive as Skjor relentlessly hammered them with blows. Aela shot one of them in the throat, and Skjor made quick work of the other one., simply beating him down with his two-handed sword.  
  
“About time you got here,” said Skjor. His armor was splattered in blood, but none of it appeared to be his.  
  
The werewolf in the cage continued to growl, snarl, and howl at them.  
  
Skjor glanced at the beast and then at Aela. No words were spoken, but Aela nodded and then fired off several arrows through the bars at the caged werewolf.  
  
“Feral?” asked Daenerys.  
  
“Yes.” Skjor shook his head. “Some can’t master the beast. They let the beast master them. Nothing we can do about it except put them down. We haven’t sired any werewolves but you lately, so it must be another strain.”  
  
Daenerys looked around noticing dead werewolves in many of the cells. “Or they’re deliberately breeding werewolves. I think we would have heard in Whiterun if there were this many werewolves running around Whiterun.”  
  
Aela tilted her head to one side. “Why would the Silver Hand do that?”  
  
“Experimentation maybe?” suggested Daenerys. “Perhaps they’re trying to find something that can kill a werewolf easily.”  
  
Skjor shrugged. “Silver hurts us, but they already know that.”  
  
Daenerys frowned. Why else would they capture werewolves? Surely it had to be much harder to capture a werewolf than to simply kill one. “Maybe they’re planning to release them near a town? They show up, kill the feral werewolf, and the town treats them like heroes instead of bandits.”  
  
“Sounds like the kind of thing those milk-drinkers would do,” agreed Skjor. “I don’t really give a shit. Let’s finish the rest of this place off. Won’t matter what they’re up to when they’re all dead. Aela, I heard one of them mention the Skinner.”  
  
Aela smiled a feral grin. “The Skinner is here? Why are we standing around talking? Let’s go.”  
  
“Wait.” Daenerys held up a hand. “There is something I forgot to ask. How exactly do I transform if it’s needed?”  
  
“You can’t,” said Skjor. “Not tonight.”  
  
“After being set free your wolf needs to rest,” explained Aela. “Wait a day. Tomorrow night when the moons are up, your wolf will hunger. Then all you need to do is set it free.”  
  
“So, I can transform once a night, but not until the moon is up?”  
  
Aela shook her head. “You will probably need to wait for the moon newblood. The more you feed, the stronger your connection to Hircine, and the more powerful your wolf. You become stronger and faster. You can stay a wolf longer, and you won’t need the moons to transform, but even for Skjor and I, our wolves need to rest. Although sometimes the wolf will come out if you are in great need or pain.”  
  
“Less talk. More fighting,” growled Skjor. He turned and headed deeper into the fortress.  
  
Aela followed him and Daenerys followed her. Daenerys still thought that it was foolish for three to attack so many. Doubly foolish to do so when their greatest weapon, becoming a werewolf was not available. Tactics, numbers, and even sheer dumb luck could overcome skill. She would have been a lot more comfortable with a few more Companions, or even some of her followers along.  
  
Skjor and Aela carved a path through the Silver Hand with contemptuous ease that made her doubts seem foolish. Daenerys engaged some in combat and held her own. She even managed two kills by surprising her opponents with a quick burst of Flames and then following that up with her mace. However, she didn’t feel like Skjor or Aela even needed her. The only time she felt like she made a difference was when they entered a room where a gallery overlooked the main level. Two archers in the gallery started raining down arrows while three other Silver Hand charged forward and tried to pin them down. Her Shout of **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** set one of the archers on fire and slammed them both back. That distracted the other archer, and Aela shot twice. The Silver Hand were putting up a good fight. They attacked together mixing melee with archers, but it didn’t matter. Skjor and Aela were simply that much better.  
  
Skjor set a fast pace, going from one room the next with barely a pause. When a particularly thick door didn’t budge when he kicked it, Skjor just kicked it two more times and then ran on through. He made it two steps before he fell down screaming with pain.  
  
Daenerys wasn’t sure why Skjor fell, but it was obviously another ambush. That he had called out in pain meant he must have been injured badly. She quickly scanned the room not wanting to be felled by the same trap. She had a glimpse of archers to the sides and men in front armed with shields and spear. Before she could take in more, a fire roared up rapidly spreading across a pool of oil that covered the entire area in front of the door including where Skjor lay. As traps go it was effective.  
  
She grabbed Aela by the shoulder before the huntress could rush in. “I’ll get Skjor! Kill the archers.” As if to punctuate her command, an arrow glanced off her shoulder. Daenerys hurried forward into the flaming pool of oil only to come to a halt. The spearmen were standing just outside the pool of fire repeatedly stabbing Skjor. Worse he wasn’t just on fire. His foot was caught in a bear trap, and that wasn’t the only bear trap. The iron jaws of bear traps were scattered all about in front of the entrance. Fortunately, she didn’t need to move to attack. She Shouted **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** at the spearmen in front of her, and two burning corpses flew backward. She reached down and grabbed Skjor to drag him out as more arrows struck her armor without hurting her. She’d thank Eorlund later. She pulled at Skjor, he was a large and heavy man, but she was able to move him a little. However, she could only get a little ways because the bear trap that had closed on his foot was anchored to the floor. She also realized that it didn’t matter. Skjor’s face was burnt, but he wasn’t screaming. He wasn’t even bleeding. Whether it was the fire or the spearmen that killed him, she was trying to save a corpse.  
  
She released Skjor and rushed two of the archers yelling, “For Skjor! For the Companions!” as she charged.  
  
The archers cast aside their bows and drew swords to meet her. She blocked one sword with her buckler while the other danced away from her mace. She heard a loud howl but was too busy fighting for her life to worry about it. She fought defensively while trying to circle around. She expected that to be more difficult, but the archers seemed to move so slowly. After a few exchanges of blows, she had circled so they had switched places. Her back was to the wall and their backs were facing the fire. She stretched out her hand and cast Shove. The opponent she targeted went flying back into the fire and bear traps. The other gawked at her for a moment, which was enough of an opening for her to smack him across the helmet with her mace. He dropped like a stone. The other had apparently fallen on a bear trap and his screams were already weakening. She looked across the room to see Aela in her werewolf form standing over a pile of corpses.  
  
Aela glared at her and growled. There was no sign of anything human in that gaze, only an animal in pain. Instinctively Daenerys lowered her mace, bowed her head and looked down at the floor. A part of her railed against the submissive gesture that was so close to bending the knee. She held that part of her in check. Aela was grieving the loss of her mate and likely to lash out. Daenerys was not submitting to her, no matter how it felt. She was a woman, a Targaryen, a dragon, and not a wolf. She was just making it clear to Aela that she was not offering challenge.  
  
Aela threw her head back and howled long and low.  
  
Somehow Daenerys knew that this was a mournful howl and not an angry howl. Aela was not going to attack her. Daenerys stood back up and sighed. She hadn’t even realized that she was holding her breath.  
  
Aela turned from her and stepped over to the body of the orc warrior that she had slain. She reached down and picked up his corpse by the neck. Daenerys watched as Aela ripped the orc’s arms off at the shoulder as easily as snapping a twig. She then ripped off the breastplate before dropping the orc back on the stone floor. With her claws she ripped open the orc’s chest. Then she lowered her face to the bloody corpse and fed upon his organs.  
  
Feeling sick at her stomach Daenerys looked away. She turned from the carnage and walked back into the still burning pool of oil. She ignored the sounds of the bloody feast and instead turned to the equally gory task of pulling what was left of Skjor out of the burning pool of oil. She’d been right about the foolishness of attacking the Silver hand, but she would have much rather been proven wrong. She would have to be wary of this new hunger inside her. Even more disturbing was that Skjor’s corpse smelled delicious.


	12. Chapter 11

# Chapter 11

Tirdas, the 12th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Aelea remained in wolf form for a long time. She fed off all the Silver Hand corpses in the final chamber but did not feed off Skjor. Eventually, she laid down beside him and just held his corpse. After a little while she started making whining noises.

Daenerys felt like an intruder, but she wasn’t going to leave Aela to grieve alone. Cautiously she came up to Aela and stroked her fur. “I’m here wolf-sister. I’m here.” She took off her armor, drug a bedroll over to where Aela lay, and lay down beside her. She felt tiny trying to hold and comfort the huge werewolf, but as she stroked Aela’s fur the werewolf seemed to calm. “Rest, Aela. He roams the Hunting Grounds. You will see him again someday.”

Some time while she held Aela they both drifted off to sleep. She woke up when clinging to a naked woman who turned in her arms. To make matters more awkward she was holding onto Aela’s breast. Slowly she released her grasp.

Aela grabbed her hand. “Don’t go. Skjor was my mate, but I’ve loved both men and women in the past. Stay with me.”

She didn’t resist as Aela moved her hand back, but she was not at all certain she wanted to take this step. “I’ve only had one woman as a lover, and she betrayed me. I killed her.”

Aela turned in her arms to face her. She smiled. “You were born to be a wolf. I will never betray you, wolf-sister.”

Daenerys sighed as Aela slid a hand up her neck and caressed her face. She had never looked at Aela as a lover, but it had been so long. Her last lover had been Jon Snow, who had also betrayed her. Aela was leaning into her, and although she had never considered the red-headed huntress to be a possible lover she pressed into her. She tilted her head. That was all the encouragement that Aela needed. The huntress kissed her hot and hungrily and started to roll her over onto her back. Daenerys felt her heart beat faster, she returned the kiss and pushed back hard.

Aela made a little sound of surprise as Daenerys moved on top of her, but she didn’t resist.

“I may be a wolf now, but I am also a dragon.” She kissed Aela again deeper this time, their tongues tangling together. Whether it was the wolf inside her or just months of celibacy, she wanted this more than she had in a long time. When the kiss broke she stared into Aela’s eyes. “Be careful that you don’t wake the dragon.”

.oOo.

When Daenerys returned to Jorrvaskr, Kodlak Whiteman wouldn’t look her in the eye even as he announced that she was now a member of the Circle. Daenerys had known that he wouldn’t be happy with her decision, and she had expected him to berate her for accepting Hircine’s gift. Instead, he almost ignored her, focusing instead on Skjor’s death. It probably didn’t help that Daenerys had helped Aela bury Skjor in the woods, close to nature. Instead of burning his corpse on a pyre at the Skyforge, Kodlak merely led a short memorial service. The Harbinger sounded much older as he spoke of Skjor and the battles they’d fought together.

The wake came after the memorial service instead of before. That night they feasted in Skjor’s honor. The Champions took turns telling stories of Skjor and drinking in his memory. Aela was notably absent. After the memorial she had just disappeared, so it fell to Daenerys to tell the battle of Gallow’s Rock and how Skjor died. She did her best to tell a story benefitting a Companion, but Skjor’s death hadn’t been heroic. They had all been fools to keep pressing forward as fast as possible and trust that they were simply strong enough to crush the Silver Hand. She had known it was foolish, that the Silver Hand weren’t idiots and used numbers and tactics. The ambush was a predictable counter. Yet, who was more foolish? Skjor and Aela? Or her for following them? She was relieved when the tale was done, and she could sit down.

Daenerys barely touched her wine as listened as the Companions told other stories about Skjor. Kodlak even told the story of the one hundred and one orc berserkers, but to her ears the story rang false, especially about where they fought back to back with swords in hand. Maybe it had happened that way. Maybe wave after wave of orcs just kept charging two men armed with swords, but maybe two werewolves had rampaged through a mob of orcs. She tried to catch Kodlak's eye, but again he continued to avoid her gaze.

Daenerys suffered through the feasting and drinking. She understood why Aela had ducked out, and it would have been more difficult with her new lover present. She found her mind drifting to Aela frequently. Their one night of passion had been intense, but she didn’t think they would be lovers for long. Aela’s grief and her own loneliness had brought them together, but Aela still mourned Skjor. Daenerys also preferred men, or did she? As she drank she ran her eyes over the Companions and serving wenches. She was much more attracted to men, that hadn’t changed. The serving wenches with their flirting and were attractive, but not in a way that made her want to carry them to bed. Farkas or Vilkas on the other hand… yes, she certainly still preferred men. Aela had been an exception, like Doreah. She was guessed that Aela felt the same, but they hadn’t really discussed it yet.

A loud cheer broke out as Vilkas swept up one of the serving wenches and carried her off to the prow. Kodlak rose and tried to leave quietly. The way he looked away from her when she tried to catch his gaze was made her decide that enough was enough. She followed him, easily catching up to him. “Harbinger, I think you and I should have a talk.”

Kodlak finally looked her in the eye. He wasn’t angry. He just looked old and weary. He sighed and nodded. “Let's go to my table. It will be private enough with the wake going on.”

Daenerys nodded her agreement and followed him down into the barracks beneath Jorrvaskar to the little round table outside his quarters. Naturally, Lydia followed them. The way Kodlak moved matched with her earlier assessment. He was an old wolf, tired, but still dangerous. When they arrived at the table, he grabbed a tankard of mead for himself and poured her a goblet of wine. Kodlak sat down in his chair and nodded at her, but he didn't say anything. She was surprised by him serving her. He had never done so before. The sharing of food felt important, but apparently it would be up to her to bridge the silence between them.

“Are you angry because I took Hircine's gift? Or because I got Skjor killed?” She kept her tone soft, not accusing, but her words were deliberately provocative to get Kodlak to open up.

“You didn't get Skjor killed. He did that himself. Skjor and Aela have been slipping more and more into Hircine's grasp over the years. They started treating every battle like a hunt. I had hopes that you could act as a balance, show the Companions that there is more to fighting than personal vainglory. Remind them of the camaraderie. Every man his own. Every woman her own. That is what we say. That is how we fight. Most of the time that's good enough, but there is a reason the Empire has lasted so long. When men fight side-by-side the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.”

Daenerys nodded. She absolutely agreed with his sentiment. That was how she had beaten **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** , and that was how she was training up her forces, but something didn’t add up. “Wolves hunt in packs.”

“Wolves, yes,” agreed Kodlak. “Werewolves are loners by nature.” He took a hefty swig of mead.

Once again the conversation lapsed, and it was up to her to keep it going. “So that means you are angry that I accepted Hircine’s gift.”

Kodlak frowned at that. “Not angry. Disappointed.” He sighed. “And it isn’t a gift. It’s a curse. You knew that. You’ll never go to Sovngarde now, and for what? You can become a beast that can never show its face. If you transform to fight, most of your followers will desert you. Some may even try to kill you.”

“I don’t believe it would be as bad as that.” After all, none of her followers tried to kill Farkas. There were some mutters afterward, but he was accepted. Although most of her followers were soldiers that barely knew her now. They had flocked to the banner of the Dragonborn. She knew many would desert a werewolf. “Fighting a dragon as a werewolf was never my plan. There is more to the gift than just turning into the beast. I’m faster and stronger now. I have better senses and I recover faster. That just might make the difference between life and death the next time we face a dragon.”

“And is slaying one dragon is worth Hircine claiming your soul?”

Lydia gasped behind Daenerys.

Daenerys stood up and turned to look behind her. “It’s fine, Lydia. I went into that ceremony with my eyes open.”

Lydia nodded, but her usual stoic expression wasn’t quite so perfect. “Very well, my Thane. Your secrets are my secrets.”

Daenerys turned back to Kodlak, but didn’t sit down. As short as she was and as tall as Kodlak was even sitting down it didn’t give her much of a height advantage. “Listen to me, Kodlak Whitemane, if it is not obvious from the comet in the skies the gods expect me to do something about the dragons. Nobody else is doing anything, and it’s all on me. Do you think the Dragonguard will keep going if I die? The people following me, they’re doing it because they believe I can lead them to victory. Do you think they would follow Fultheim? Sofija? Faralda? Will the Companions step up to the task? Will the jarls of Skyrim or the nobles of the Empire? You know how I fought **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir**. Bait and Anvil, and I’m the bait. Some even think I’m the Last Dragonborn, and the one behind the dragons is Alduin. I need every edge I can get.”

“And you turn to the daedra for that edge? What about that symbol you wear around your neck? I’ve heard about Grandfather, the priest of Talos. You chose Hircine over the gods?”

“I honor Talos. He saved me, but faith isn’t enough for me. I will fight with every weapon I can grasp. I even pray to Talos sometimes, but I’m the one who will stand up and Shout at a dragon.”

“And Sovngarde? You’re not a huntress. Do you really want to spend your afterlife hunting and being hunted?”

Daenerys shrugged. “I’m not a Nord, Kodlak. The Hunting Grounds don’t sound like a bad afterlife.” Yes, it bothered her. The Hunting Grounds didn’t sound like a particularly good afterlife, but she could do much worse. If the Nords were right that the daedra claimed the souls of the wicked, then the alternative she faced would be much worse. She had killed hundreds of thousands to make them submit. That meant the Daedric Prince with the strongest claim on her soul was probably Molag Bal. The Hunting Grounds sounded like paradise compared to Coldharbor. While she would never say it to Kodlak, she also wasn’t really that impressed with what she had heard of Sovngarde. She didn’t mind a little bit of celebration, but the Nords took it to extremes even in life. She didn’t want to spend her afterlife locked up in a never-ending party of drunk Nords feasting, boasting, and wenching.

However, a better afterlife wasn’t the real reason. “Kodlak, I admire you. I will try to find a way for you to get to Sovngarde, but listen to me. If Hircine claiming my soul is the cost of victory, it is a price that I’ll gladly pay.”

Kodlak stared at her as if he finally understood the burden on her shoulders. “I suppose that I couldn’t see beyond the Companions. I wanted Skjor to be the next Harbinger until he started falling to the wolf. Lately, I have been hoping that it would be you, and I wanted you to be the first in hundreds of years not to be in Hircine’s grasp.”

He wanted her to be the next Harbinger? “If you made me the Harbinger, I’d lead them all to fight dragons. I thought you didn’t want that.”

“I didn’t. It isn’t like the Companions have never fought dragons, but we are not the Blades or the Dragonguard. Maybe I was wrong, maybe if I had supported you more you wouldn’t have felt the need to turn to Hircine. However, what’s done is done.” He stood up. “Go in peace, Daenerys Targaryen, may the gods watch over us all.”

.oOo.

Daenerys met with her small council of Fultheim, Lydia, Sofija, Faralda, and Camilla in the prow of Jorrvaskr. Lydia and Camilla were sitting on one of the beds. Fultheim sat at the table which held the map of their planned route. Sofija reclined against the door, still on guard even as she listened to her council. Daenerys at the other end of the table from Fultheim as they went over their plans to leave Whiterun.

In her opinion their departure was overdue, but the latest delays had been reasonable. Taking the time to loot Gallows Rock had been quite lucrative according to Camilla’s report. Fultheim’s request that the troops in training be given three days of liberty in Whiterun before they departed was something she should have thought of herself. They had trained hard and Fultheim had turned them into a force that would hopefully kill dragons, but soldiers couldn’t just train and fight. They needed time to relax. She had no doubt most of them would blow their pay on mead and whores, but that was only to be expected. They weren’t the Unsullied.

The meeting was mostly focused on last-minute details. Jon Battle-born had decided to join them, but he and Olfina Gray-mane had apparently not reconciled. One of her men had been arrested after a bar fight and Camilla got him released. A lot of the discussion was about the arrangements for the parade through the streets of Whiterun. As well as the feast that Jarl Balgruuf would be throwing them the night before.

Daenerys wasn’t entirely happy about the parade or the feast. It gave the people of Whiterun the impression that Jarl Balgruuf was sponsoring the Dragonguard and Daenerys when his support had been minimal. However, she knew that it benefitted her as well. Marching her forces through the city would create an impression that would be carried by travelers throughout Skyrim. She was making it a point that Val and Ull would dress in Stormcloak armor while the Gaius Paulinus and his men would be wearing Imperial. She couldn’t predict how that message would be received, but it was a powerful statement to make during this time of civil war.

When they finally wound down Daenerys stood up. “I have one more item to talk about tonight. It’s something that came up when I was talking to Kodlak. In addition to the rogue wizards of Ilinalta’s Deep and bandits camps that we plan to hit on our way to Ivarstad, we will almost certainly attract a dragon at some point. We have a lot more men than I had to fight Mirmulnir, and that’s good. Our chances of killing the dragon are much better, but we’re going to lose men. Fighting a dragon isn’t safe. The ballistae, in particular, are a gamble. They could get lucky, but dragons are nimble flyers. I’m not saying that we won’t win. I know we’ll win, but there will be losses. We could even lose some of us in this room.”

Fultheim scowled. “We all know that. You don’t need to rub it in our faces.”

“That’s not where I was going. Ending the dragon attacks is important. The Dragonguard is important. No one is doing this job but us. If some of us die, the Dragonguard must continue. Right now three of the people in this room are almost indispensable. I am one of them. Fultheim is the second. Faralda is the third. I know this isn’t a pleasant topic, but I want the Dragongard to go on even if all three of us fall, so we’re going to plan for that here and now.” She paused to give her council time to speak.

No one said a word. Daenerys took a moment to look at each of them in the eye. Camilla couldn’t meet her gaze, but the others nodded grimly. “Fultheim, we’ll start with you. I can give orders, but I can’t train men as you can. Is there anyone in the Dragonguard who can?”

Fultheim nodded. “Aye, Gaius Paulinus. He is probably better at it than me. That would mean giving an Imperial a position on your Council.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when needed for now start including him in your planning more, and let him know that he is your second. Is there anyone else other than him?”

“No, not in your forces. You’ll want someone who has spent years as an officer in the Imperial army or someone similar.”

Daenerys nodded. “I hope that it doesn’t come to that. I feel good about the way we’re positioning ourselves as neutral in the Stormcloak rebellion, but if it takes swearing to the Empire to end the dragon threat, then that’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Faralda, I already know we have nothing that can replace you, but your support is critical. I helped lure **Mir** - **Mul** - **Nir** in low, but you hurt him more than anyone else. We need a Master of Destruction or a battlemage. Two ballistae aren’t enough. It would take a dozen at least. We need more mages, preferably ones skilled at Destruction. Maybe if we had a Tongue who could Shout that would close the gap.”

“Which leaves me. I baited the dragon. I will do it again. I almost died, and if I do in the next fight, I want the Dragonguard to go on. To do that you will need Tongues who can Shout. Continue to High Hrothgar and meet with the Greybeards. Maybe you can get one of them to get off their asses and help. If not, I hope that some of us can learn to Shout. It has to mean something that Sofija can feel a Word pulse under her fingers at a Word Wall, that Ull can hear a faint chant, and that Faralda felt Yol. Make sure that you test Jon Battle-born as well. He had a knack for Dovahzul. Maybe that means something. I can hope.”

“You’ll also need a leader. Fultheim, you have made my forces into an army, but you aren’t that leader.”

Fultheim smiled. “You’re right about that. I can deal with soldiers, but not all the other political bullshit. Not to mention the overall strategy, like this talk right here. Yeah, no one likes to talk about it, but planning for how to cope with losses, that’s smart. That is one of the reasons you wear the boss pants.”

“Honestly, I miss skirts and dresses.” It was an attempt at Nord humor, to laugh in the face of death, but only Fultheim smiled. “Regardless, a leader has to be a symbol, someone who has done deeds that will inspire others. Sofija, Ēlī Vokēdrie, Dragonslayer, you are my second. If I fall in battle, it will be up to you to lead the Dragonguard.”

Sofija lost her footing from where she was leaning on the door and almost slid down to the floor before she caught herself and stood. “Me? Surely, you’re joking. I’m too young and inexperienced.”

“Age has nothing to do with. I conquered my first city when I was younger than you.” It had to be Sofija, she wasn’t ideal, but only she had enough of a legend to pick up her mantel.

Sofija gaped at her. “Of course you did because you’re the Dragonborn. You’re chosen by the gods to save us all. I could never fill your shoes.”

“You don’t have to fill my shoes. Fill your own. Make your own legend, Dragonslayer. You’re the only one who could command. Fultheim doesn’t have the temperament. Nords would never follow an Altmer mage. You swore an oath to me. That vow is not released by my death. I chose you, Sofija. If I fall you will take up the gauntlet. You will continue until the dragon threat is no more. You will not be alone. I charge the rest of you to support her.”

Fultheim nodded. “She’s right, Sofija. If we support you, our troops would follow you if you pick up her banner. They would follow me to the nearest tavern. They wouldn’t follow the rest of us at all.”

Sofija bowed her head. “I’m not worthy. I’m not the Dragonborn. I never conquered a city as a child. The gods didn’t put a sign in the sky for me. I’m a spellsword. I don’t know how to lead like you do. You know things, but I’ll try.”

“I’ll teach you, Sofija.” She turned her gaze to her other housecarl. “Lydia, you’ll watch over me while I’m sleeping going forward.”

Lydia thumped her chest. “As you command my thane.”

“Sofija, from today on you are my shadow. If I’m awake, you’re awake. You watch and listen. Sometimes we’ll talk. I’m not planning to die tomorrow, and I’m also not putting the weight entirely on your shoulders. I’ve been keeping too much to myself. It’s time that I shared some of my plans with all of you in my small council. We need to talk about Tongues, and how I hope to find more. I’ve mentioned Riften, and I do hope to pick up an honest thief, if there is such a thing, to aid us in dungeons, but I’m more interested in seeking out the Dawnguard. They have crossbows, which is a weapon that I’m familiar with from my homeland. Slower to load than a bow, but it penetrates better – that makes it better against dragons. They might be able to help us improve our ballistae as well. I have many other plans that might work. We’re going to talk about them as well. I’ve been foolish and kept too much to myself. That stops now. From now on I’m sharing all my plans with you, even the crazy ones.”

“Crazier than trying to teach an elf to Shout?” asked Faralda.

Daenerys smiled. Gods bless, Faralda. “Some of them, yes, and it starts with Azura’s Star and the multiple reasons that Ilinalta’s Deep is our next target.”

She began to explain how she had stumbled upon the Shrine of Azura and met Aranea Ienith, the High Priestess of Azura -who was also a highly skilled enchantress. That she had been charged to retrieve Azura’s Star and would in return be named the Champion of Azura. In fact, according to Aranea that was already destined to happen. She went on to explain that might help her save Grandfather’s soul, but she also hoped to recruit the high priestess and outfit all the Dragonguard with armor enchanted to resist fire. It was a large dream, but it could be done, and she intended to make it happen, but it was far from her only plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoiler - Don't get hung up on the Daenerys/Aela ship, this is more of a fling. I've labeled this story as Gen because relationships aren't a main focus of the story.
> 
> However, I am new to Archive of Our Own. Most of my stories are on Spacebattles, Sufficient Velocity and Fanfiction.net I have noticed the huge amount of tags that accompany most stories. Should I add a Daenerys/Aela relationship tag for what was proably a one-shot deal. I say probably because while I have plotted out the major plot points, those do change sometimes as I write out chapters.
> 
> Honestly, I've found the tagging of every minor character to be a bit annoying when I'm searching for a story about a character or ship, and the character is barely mentioned but are tagged, but that seems to be the custom here.


	13. Chapter 13

# Chapter 12

Tirdas, the 19th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys waited impatiently upon Nightwind for the parade to start. Horses were not usually allowed inside Whiterun, but Jarl Balgruuf had insisted upon it for the parade. So, she waited atop her black stallion while Jarl Balgruuf sat upon a white stallion beside her. They had exchanged the usual pleasantries. Jarl Balgruuf had congratulated her again on assembling the Dragonguard so quickly and especially for her ability to gain allies from both the Empire and the Stormcloaks. She had thanked him again for all his support. Neither of them mentioned their differences because they really weren’t that far apart. They were more closely aligned than any other power in Skyrim. Together they were the moderate faction in the civil war. While Daenerys wished that Balgruuf had been more active in supporting her, he had still done quite a lot. This parade would benefit both of them. However, she was tired of the hurry-up and wait. Summer was almost upon them and this parade would waste the better part of a day. Seeing Aela approach with a pack on her back was a surprising, but welcome, distraction.

The red-headed huntress came up to her and thumped her chest in salute. “Hail, shield-sister. When will be leaving?”

“Soon, shield-sister. I take it you have decided to join us?” That much was obvious. Why else would Aela be wearing a pack? The real question was why. Aela had vanished for days after Skjor’s memorial service. She had only returned two days ago, and they hadn’t done more than exchange glances and passing greetings. While Daenerys had been very busy, she thought the lack of conversation meant that whatever had passed between them had been a one-time affair. At least she hoped it was only a one-time affair, and Aela was not coming to continue it.

“I have.” She glanced at Jarl Balgruuf briefly and then returned her gaze to Daenerys. “Kodlak wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t object. I owe you. When I asked you to stay, you stayed... You were also right about the Silver Hand. Skjor and I were foolish. We should have brought more… men. You knew that, but you came anyway.”

“Of course, I did.” While Daenerys appreciated Aela admitting she had been right, she certainly wasn’t going to rub her nose in it. “I’ll stand at your back, so the world may never overtake us.”

“And that is why I am here, shield-sister. Even with these troops you have assembled, it will be dangerous. I will raise my bow in your honor.”

“Good.” Daenerys leaned down from her horse while keeping a grip on the pommel. It was much harder to stay in a saddle without stirrups. She couldn’t quite grasp arms properly, but they did clasp wrists. “Thank you, shield-sister. We’ll talk more later. I would place you over my scouts. I can think of no one better.”

“I will seek you out upon the road, once all this pageantry is over.” She gave a nod and sashayed off.

Daenerys watched as Aela walked away into Whiterun. She couldn’t blame the huntress for not participating in the parade. She also thought the sway of her hips hinted that honor wasn’t her only reason for accompanying them.

“So that makes three Companions joining you?” asked Jarl Balgruuf. “Torvar, Vignar and now Aela?”

Daenerys gave him a slight nod. “Correct, you’re well-informed.”

“Whiterun is my city. Being well-informed is my job.”

Daenerys continued to make small talk with Jarl Balgruuf until the parade started. A dozen of the jarl’s best troops led the way holding the banner of Whiterun. Fultheim followed after them leading the raw recruits that he had forged into soldiers. Despite their earlier conversation of having two sets of armor: light leather for marching and heavy armor for exploring barrows, the logistics of two armor sets just hadn’t worked out. In the end she had decided on light armor for her troops. They still looked distinctive as they all carried tower shields, which were notpopula in Skyrim. The shields were all painted to match the cloaks worn by all the Dragonguard, a black dragon in flight upon a red field – inverting her house colors. They were armed with spears, also an unusual weapon for Nords, but well-suited for being able to harm a dragon while keeping distance.

After a small gap came her political statement. Her loaned Imperial troops led by Gaius Paulinus marched alongside Ull and Val dressed in full Stormcloak armor. She had expected there to be more tension between the two parties, but they all understood exactly what was being communicated and approved of the message. However, they still kept a notable gap between them. Stormcloaks on the right and Imperials on the left. Included in this statement were Jon Battle-born and Olfina Gray-mane. Jon Battle-born walked behind the Imperials and carried a banner with the Imperial dragon on it. Olfina Gray-mane walked behind the Stormcloaks and carried the Stormcloak banner, which was really just Ulfric’s banner.

Then came her two ballistae and their crew. Twelve men to man two ballistae was excessive. Three each was enough, but she still hoped to gain more ballistae. Having trained men would help, and the ones not needed to man the ballistae were still archers of varying skill. While arrows individually did little to dragons, enough arrows in the wings would ground them.

Next came her irregular forces, those that weren’t sworn to either the Dragonguard or House Targaryen: Faralda, Jenassa, Salim Bashir, and Elolir, the Bosmer poacher who had just joined her forces. Following them came their housecarls with the banners. Irileth, the same efficient and suspicious housecarl that had interviewed her months ago, carried the banner of Whiterun. Sofija had the honor of carrying the banner of the House Targaryen: a red three-headed dragon in a spiral on a black field.

Danerys and Jarl Balgruuf rode side by side immediately behind the banners. Daenerys thought their mirrored stallions in black and white was a good touch. She waved to the people but did not blow kisses like Jarl Balgruuf. From the cheering of the crowd, she gauged that they were more excited to see her than their jarl. She wasn’t surprised. Despite having been in Whiterun for six weeks now people still stared and called out her name everywhere she went. Very few of them went as far as kneeling any longer. While she had agreed to this parade for the political benefits, she found herself being buoyed by the adoration of the crowd. While the people of Whiterun did not have the same fanatical devotion to her the freed slaves of Dragon’s Bay did for Mhysa, they truly did adore her. She found their faith in her both inspiring and intimidating. She had only killed one dragon. There were more out there. Her task had only begun.

.oOo.

Once they left the farmlands surrounding Whiterun behind, Daenerys loaned her horse to Camilla so she could ride ahead to Riverwood and confirm the arrangements for them to camp outside of the town. She didn’t mind walking. Since becoming a werewolf her body seemed to crave more physical activity. It was also important culturally to be seen walking with her men. Nords liked to see their leaders sharing their burdens and being involved. While it wasn’t a custom, like rowing on a Nord ship, Fultheim confirmed that her walking alongside her troops would be well-received. She spoke to some of them as she walked. She didn’t want to become too close. As a leader she needed some distance, but she asked them their names and why they joined. Most of them told the same story, they wanted to follow her. Several of them had trouble talking to her they were so in awe, but she shared a few words with each of them.

When she scented wolf, she looked about and spotted Aela. She finished up her conversation and turned to Aela. “Hello, shield-sister. Would you walk with me?”

The huntress nodded. “Perhaps a little off the road?”

They were up into the hills now with the White River to their left. The road was an Imperial one and an easy march, but the adjacent woods were full of trees and underbrush. “Lead the way.”

Aela led them up the slope so that they were walking through the woods, but still in sight of her forces. She glanced back and frowned. “I meant you, not you and your housecarl.”

Daenerys shrugged. “I have no secrets from Sofija. She is my chosen successor. If I fall in battle, she leads the Dragonguard.”

“I will also die before I betray any of her secrets,” added Sofija. “I already know you are both werewolves if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Aela grinned. “I was more concerned about you knowing that we were lovers.”

“I hadn’t told her that yet,” said Daenerys. “However, she can be trusted. Is that the real reason you came?” Because that didn’t sound like Aela.

“No, what I told you was true. You stood by me. Now I will stand by you. Also, because Farkas and Vilkas are following the lead of Kodlak. You’re the only true wolf-sister I have left. She laughed. “Besides, I’ve hunted dragons twice and come up short. It’s time to change that.”

Daenerys nodded. This made more sense. “And if that was all, why even mention our one night?”

Aela made a huffing sound. “Because of this right here. I don’t want this lingering between us, like the smell of last night’s kill. The night we spent meant something, but Skjor was my mate, and I still mourn him. I’ll see him again in the Hunting Grounds.” She looked at Daenerys with a bit of hunger. “I wouldn’t say no to another night if it could be kept quiet, but don’t get attached.”

“Kept quiet?” That was odd. Nords didn’t think it was at all unusual to have lovers before marriage.

“You cast a big shadow, wolf-sister. I’m a Companion of Jorrvaskr, a hero. I don’t want to get lost in your shadow and known only as your mistress. I want to be known for my deeds, not who I sleep with.”

Daenerys nodded her understand. Honestly, it was a relief to have this settled. She had already suspected that it had been a one-time thing. “I understand. We’re still sisters. Thank you for coming with me.” She reached out her hand and clasped arms with Aela.

“Where else would I be than my sister’s side?” Aela gripped her arm in return. “Wolves hunt in packs.”

“You’ll still lead my scouts?”

“I’ve already started. I talked to Fultheim.” She released her clasp. “Now that we’ve spoken, I will go back to sneaking up on them to see just how alert they are.”

Daenerys laughed as Aela hurried away into the woods. She turned back to Sofija. “Questions?”

“So, you prefer women?” asked Sofija.

“Gods, no. I prefer men. I like them dangerous and competent. It doesn’t hurt if they have a little bit of political savvy, like Jarl Kraldar. I might have been interested in more with him until he manipulated me to improve his standing with Ulfric. He’s still an ally, but he burned any chance he had with me. Aela just needed me after Skjor died. It wasn’t my first time with a woman, but all-in-all I’m relieved she doesn’t want to take things further.”

Sofija frowned. “I don’t see the attraction, but it’s not my business.”

“Your business is to learn. Ask questions. You’re my second. This isn’t a lesson, but maybe it should be. To be honest, I am relieved for many reasons. First, because our one night together was more to comfort Aela than because of any attraction. Secondly, I have to be careful about rumors. Less so here in Skyrim than in my homeland. Nords know that young people have sex, and they don’t give a damn. They don’t really care about women staying pure and virginal like they did back in Westeros. What matters to Nords is fidelity in marriage. Still, I have to be careful of my perception and commitments. There may come a time when I need to seal an alliance with marriage. It would be awkward if I were known to be committed to a lover.”

“Alliance by marriage? I know that noble houses do that, but would you?”

Daenerys laughed. “I already did once. I married my second husband, Hizdahr zo Loraq, to soothe the nobles of Meereen. It helped some…” She sighed. “If I had the wisdom to marry Jon Snow maybe many things would have worked out differently. However, that is in the past.”

“And if it comes to me to lead the Dragonguard? What alliances would be worth sealing in marriage?”

“I can think of two reasons. First, if it would gain the full support of either the Empire or the Stormcloaks for the Dragonguard. Not lending a few men. It would have to be a true commitment. Whatever troops the Dragonguard needs, we get. The second thing that I would marry for would be to see my compromise to peacefully end the Stormcloak Rebellion pushed through. A political marriage might be enough to swing one side or the other to the table.”

“I see.” She was silent for a while. “Should I break things off with Ull?”

“What?” She turned and looked Sofija in the eye. “Don’t you dare. Seize your happiness while you can. It’s not a burden you need to bear. I’m placing enough on your shoulders.”

Sofija bowed her head. “Thank you.”

.oOo.

Daenerys moved quietly as they approached Ilinalta's Deep. Despite the scouting reports it still felt like they were walking into a trap. Where a thriving town had once stood surrounding an Imperial fortress there was now nothing but a few abandoned huts and a keep so sunken that only the battlements peeked out above the lake. She knew the story of this place, having heard it from Gerdur even before she left Riverwood.

The town of Ilinalata had once been a major settlement, one of the most important in Falkreath Hold. It had been the central point for fishermen on Lake Ilinalta as well as a stop on the trade route through Brittleshin's pass. The way Gerdur told the story the fortress had been built too close to the lake and had always leaked. It had started sinking into the lake before construction had even completed. The Imperials who built it hadn't been too concerned as it sunk no more than the width of a thumb in a year. They merely installed pumps in the dungeons to bail out the water during the spring floods. As years turned to decades the slow subsidence remained more a nuisance than a danger.

That changed shortly before the Great War. A series of earthquakes struck the area. In a matter of months, the fortress sank beneath the waters of Lake Ilinalta along with much of the town. The whole event reminded Daenerys of the way that half of Winterhold had fallen beneath the waves. Although no one seemed to think that there had been anything mystical about the earthquakes. In fact, the only magic had been an attempt by Imperial mages to shore up the fortress which had somewhat worked. The main keep was still preserved despite being almost completely underwater, but their efforts had been ultimately futile. That was when people started calling it Ilinalta's Deep instead of Ilinalta's Keep. With the onset of the Great War, the fortress had been written off as a loss and abandoned. The half-sunken town of Ilinalta had lived on as a trading post and fishing village, but a little more than a year ago rumors of the old keep being haunted had started. While Daenerys couldn't be certain, she was willing to bet that was when Malyn Varen and his followers had decided to make Ilinalta's Deep their new home. In the months that followed villagers, boats, and trading caravans started disappearing.

It bothered Daenerys that few people seemed to care much about what was happening at Ilinalta's Deep. Gerdur had at least tried. She had sent messages to Jarl Balgruuf. He had refused to send troops into Falkreath Hold. While she couldn't blame Jarl Balgruuf for that when he was trying to stay neutral in the matter of the Stormcloak Rebellion, she felt that he should have at least stationed more men in Riverwood. She could and did blame Jarl Siddgeir. While the fallen fortress had little military value and the village no longer saw much trade, it was still part of his holdings and his responsibility. However, it fit an overall pattern she had seen in Tamriel. The Empire and Skyrim in particular were in decline. Maybe it took an outsider's eye to see it, but the signs were everywhere. Even before the dragon attacks trade had been faltering. People were abandoning the wild unsettled lands to huddle around the major cities and towns. Great fortresses that must have taken generations to construct lay in ruin and disrepair. Everywhere men were turning to banditry rather than honest work because there was little honest work to be found. The Great War had decimated a generation and the Empire was still recovering. It was no wonder that so many Nords flocked to Ulfric Stormcloak's banner. He offered a simple story. The Empire had turned its back on Talos and that's why everything was so bad. It was always much easier to blame someone else than to do the hard work of building.

What was more important now was that the village of Ilinalta simply didn't exist any longer. There were a few houses and huts, but no people, no animals, and no supplies left behind. According to her scouts, the village had been stripped clean of anything of value. There were no boats left behind either, so Daenerys hoped that most of the remaining inhabitants had fled. However, the alternative that Malyn Varen's coven had rounded them all up to be used as ritual sacrifices seemed equally likely. Although she had no proof that the coven was still here, just Nelacar's word from months ago. Her scouts had found no tracks or signs of anyone nearby. They hadn't even found any rune traps. It had rained two days ago. That could have washed away older tracks, but it didn’t add up. Either the coven had moved away, or they were hiding in Ilinalta's Deep without even posting sentries. Regardless, they were able to occupy the roof of the sunken fortress without encountering any opposition.

“The roof is clear,” reported Fultheim. “Your orders?”

Fultheim knew the plan as well as she did. They had gone over it often enough with input from both Vignar and Gaius Paulinus. However, he always allowed her to make the decisions.

“Assemble the assault team on the roof. I’ll lead the attack. Gaius, set up and hold a perimeter.”

Gaius Paulinus saluted and started barking orders to shift some of the rubble to form barricades.

Choosing the assault team had been difficult. They were assaulting a coven inside a fortress. Mages were devastatingly powerful on the offense, especially when they had the advantage of distance. However, most of them were specialized in magic and had little melee skills or armor. The key was to close the gap quickly and strike hard – things that werewolves did very well. Daenerys wanted Aela to come with them for that reason. Unfortunately, that meant limiting her strike team to those who had been with her at Dustman’s Cairn when Farkas transformed. She didn’t want to make the same mistake as Gallow’s Rock and take too few men, but the reality of close-quarters fighting meant that bringing her entire army in wouldn’t help much anyway. In the end she made added Salim Bashir, the Redguard she’d saved from the Whiterun dungeons and three men from the Dragonguard that Fultheim claimed were the most loyal.

Once everyone was gathered around the trap door, Aela and Lydia went in first hurrying down a ladder, then everyone else filed in as fast as possible. Daenerys was prepared for a fight instead they were all standing in an empty room. The room was certainly unusual. The keep had tilted as it sank so the angles were all off. The floor sloped downward, and the walls and ceiling all leaned. Water poured in from the lake cascading down the walls filling the room with a few inches of water that flowed down into the deeper parts of the keep. A skeleton on a cross greeted them. It was a macabre warning, but she had seen worse. Compared to the hundreds of children crucified on the road to Meereen this was nothing. It was also staged. Rats and skeevers would have torn apart someone who had really been left here to rot. In fact, as she looked closer she noticed that the skeleton had been wired together to keep it from falling apart.

“Is that it? Just a warning for intruders to keep out? Faralda, any magical traps or alarms?” She kept her voice low, but the running water acted to their benefit to cover any sounds they made.

Faralda walked around for a bit and felt the walls. “Nothing that I can tell. Some kind of Alteration magic was enchanted into the walls, and this place has a necromantic feel to it, but I can’t detect any traps or alarms. Also, whatever was done here was patchwork and it’s not holding together very well. The keep isn’t going to sink into the lake today, but I certainly wouldn’t live here.”

“Thank you.” So, the place was unsafe, wet, and smelled of mildew and dead fish. Had Malyn Varen and his coven assumed that would be enough to deter invaders? Certainly, it probably kept out visitors, but people had noticed the disappearances. Surely, they had some defenses set up or guards posted. She sent Aela, Ull, and Jenassa to scout ahead and waited. Not long later they returned.

“Another large empty room like this one,” reported Alea. “After that some corridors and there are people beyond. We could have taken them, but there are probably more beyond them.”

Daenerys nodded. “You three move up close to them. Don’t attack yet. Let us get into position first.”

She kept expecting something to happen, but they were able to sneak up close before one of the mages heard something. He walked in to investigate and died when Jenassa, Ull and Aela filled him full of arrows before he even got off a spell. The next few rooms proved to be similar. There were a few mages in residence just living there. They also had a few animated skeletons for defense. Both the mages and skeletons died quickly. They moved on and found what appeared to be a dining hall and a kitchen, along with some dormitories. Most of the time they were able to take the mages without them getting off a spell. The running and dripping water made enough noise to cover the noise they made invading.

The next few rooms proved the same and then they got lucky and captured a mage who was only severely injured instead of killed. Daenerys was unable to muster up enough sympathy for the mage to perform the Seeming for healing, but a healing potion saved his life.

“Dragonborn,” interrupted Fultheim. “May I have a word with you?”

Daenerys nodded. Fultheim never contradicted her where anyone else could hear, but his discrete advice was usually worth hearing. “Walk with me.” She led him back to the kitchen that they had already cleared. Sofija stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

“Lady Targaryen, were you about to question the captured mage yourself?”

“I was. You know as well as I do it could save us from walking into a trap.” Why was he even questioning this? Fultheim was a Nord but he understood that war was dirty.

“Yes, he needs to be questioned, but you should not be the one to do it. The men will accept that it needs to be done, but you need to keep your hands clean of it.”

“Like Jarl Korir kept his hands clean when he sent me to be repeatedly raped?” She liked and respected Fultheim, but she couldn’t keep the frost out of reply.

“I’ve heard that story. I know what it means to you, but yes. That you handle your own executions is commendable. Your men respect you for that, especially with how you phrased it. However, torturing prisoners will not earn you respect, only fear. I’ll do it. They’re supposed to fear me. Let me do it, or don’t do it at all.”

Daenerys pondered that for a moment. She didn’t like it. Her hands were already soaked in blood. She had no doubt the mage had participating in sacrificing innocent villagers. She didn’t like the pretense of letting Fultheim do the dirty work when the decision was hers to make. However, the more she thought of it, the more she realized the sense of what Fultheim was suggesting. “You’re right. It shouldn’t be me. I can’t let him live with what he’s done, but if he talks give him an easy death. Since I can’t be there, ask Faralda to join you.”

Fultheim nodded. “I’ll do that.” He walked on out.

Daenerys looked to Sofija. “You understand what happened just now and why?”

“Yeah,” replied Sofija. “I get it. It’s not just about being a badass. People look up to us. It’s like you said. We’re symbols and stuff, right?”

Daenerys gave her a nod of approval while overlooking her ‘and stuff’ comment. While Sofija didn’t have an intuitive grasp of politics, Daenerys rarely had to repeat lessons. Unfortunately, Sofija lacked eloquence. Daenerys found it ironic that despite being an outlander she spoke like a member of the upper class. Probably because she had modeled her way of speaking off Faralda and Brelyna. Sofija’s tongue betrayed her peasant upbringing. Daenerys had tried correcting it, but when she pointed it out Sofija became flustered and her speech became even more common. So instead of pointing it out, she just rephrased and repeated.

“Yes, Sofija, it’s about being a symbol. A symbol of honor and hope. It’s better to just be honorable and do the right thing, but it isn’t always simple. For instance, Fultheim is torturing a man. He may find out that this coven has been foolish and are as easy to kill as they have been so far. So, this might be for nothing, but they may also have traps. We need to know.”

Sofija shrugged. “I think this is easier for me than you. I don’t have any problem with torturing necromancers. A clean death is too good for them. I get why we should keep our hands clean, but I’d gladly torture them all if it saved one life.”

“Good,” she gave Sofija another nod of approval even though she had misgivings about how bloodthirsty Sofija could be. As her bodyguard it was appropriate, but not as a leader. Although she couldn’t condemn Sofija with all the blood that was on her own hands. The necromancers certainly deserved it more than the people of King’s Landing. “I understand how you feel Sofija, but there is a difference between justice and vengeance. We’ll talk more about that some other time. Come on, let’s rejoin everyone else before Lydia gets worried.”

They had to wait a little while, but Fultheim eventually walked out and reported to her. “It’s done. The coven started with more people, but there are only about a dozen of them left. They started by sacrificing villagers and fishermen, but have now moved on to sacrificing failed apprentices. Malyn Varen, this leader they all followed, he killed himself and put his soul into Azura’s Star. He thinks he’ll be immortal that way. The rest are feeding him souls to stabilize it. They all want to join him. If we hadn’t shown up, they might have all sacrificed each other in a few weeks.”

Faralda nodded her agreement. “I know madness is Shegorath’s demesne, but people who cross Azura have a habit of destroying themselves. This fits that pattern.”

“How many did they kill?”

Fultheim scowled. “Every man woman and child who still lived in the village. They sacrificed the children first, then the women, and the men last. He guessed around fifty.”

Daenerys clenched her hands into fists but stayed calm. She hadn’t expected the number to be so high. She should have come here sooner, but Fultheim was merely the messenger. “What about their defenses? Any traps or ambushes that we need to worry about? And did they know anything about the Glenmoril witches?”

“Not much in the way of defenses,” replied Fultheim. “There is a room up ahead where the center is sunken, and they have a drawbridge over the deep water. It will be hard to attack across the central pool if the bridge is up, but that’s about it. The way he described it, the room is big enough we can spread out and have our archers clear the other side. Then someone can swim across. So, not a big problem. As for the witches, he claimed the Forsworn might know something. Apparently both the Glenmoril Witches and the Forsworn worship the ‘old gods’. I would normally say something about daedra worshipers, but considering we’re helping Azura…” He sighed. “However, compared to these death cultists, Azura is tame.”

Faralda nodded her head in agreement. “The practice of Necromancy draws those chasing the mirage of immortality. They give all mages a bad name. Let’s kill them and be done with it.”

Daenerys nodded. “I can agree to that.” She raised her voice. “Everyone, get ready. We’re finishing them off.”

The rest of Ilinalta’s Deep proved to be just as easy as what they had already explored. The mages were spread out in various rooms in twos and threes with a few skeletons backing them up. The one room that might have been difficult with the drawbridge wasn’t a problem. She got all her archers, herself, and Faralda into the room before anyone noticed. The mage who spotted them managed to get off one ice spear that hurt Ull, but she healed him as soon as the fight was over.

Before long they reached the final room where the decaying corpse of Malyn Varen rested on a throne with Azura’s Star in his lap. The room was scattered with bones and decaying corpses. This was his idea of immortality? Trapping himself inside a daedric artifact? Maybe there was a lesson here, but all she saw was madness.


	14. Chapter 13

# Chapter 13

Tirdas, the 26th of Second Seed, Year 202 of the 4th Era

When they returned to Riverwood, Daenerys set aside being the Dragonborn to spend the night with Gerdur and Hod. While there was much that she couldn’t tell Gerdur, they talked long into the night about people. Gerdur told of the little rumors and stories in Riverwood. How Faendal was still pining for Camilla, but Sven had moved on to someone else. Delphine had been gone for some time. The new tavern maid, Saara, flirted with everyone, but apparently had eyes for Orgnar. Daenerys talked about how Faralda still hid her scars behind her facepaint, but had come out of her shell. Fultheim was drinking less, but sometimes he would still drink himself stupid at night. She talked about taking Sofija under her wing, and about the secret love drama between Jon Battle-born and Olfina Grey-mane. Despite not sharing her worries about fighting dragons, dealing with daedra, or being a werewolf, she felt better for talking with Gerdur. Her heart felt lighter as she left Riverwood behind.

She felt nostalgic as they left Riverwood for Helgen. Nine months ago, she had followed Ralof down this path from Helgen to Riverwood. She had been so confused back then. Ralof could have easily abandoned her, but he had protected her during the chaos of the dragon attack and their subsequent escape through the dungeons beneath Helgen. He had given her a home with Gerdur before going off to rejoin the Stormcloaks. She offered a small silent prayer to Talos that he was safe.

Early afternoon they reached the Embershard mine. Daenerys found it sad that the mine was still occupied by bandits despite being such a short journey from Riverwood. Her scouts easily ambushed the one sentry that the bandits had posted outside. She joined her troops and stormed the mines. It wasn’t much of a fight, but she almost lost a man when he took an arrow to the gut. She was able to heal him, but it had been a close thing.

The next day they encountered more bandits at Helgen. One of them died, but the rest quickly surrendered when they realized just how badly outnumbered they were. That left her in the difficult position of having to pass judgment on them. She separated the four who surrendered and had them interrogated separately as to their crimes. Their stories were mostly consistent in the basics. They had been peasants in Falkreath, but they had been driven off their lands from the dragon attack. Jarl Siddgeir wasn’t known for his kindness to refugees, so they had decided to shelter in the ruins of Helgen. After that their stories differed. Two claimed that they were living off the land, but hadn’t robbed anyone. The third admitted to robbing a few passing merchants, but they hadn’t killed anyone. The fourth also admitted to robbing passing merchants, but their dead fifth member had done all the killing.

Daenerys decided to use this as a training opportunity for Sofija. “So, what do you make of their stories? What is the truth of it, and what should we do with them?”

“They’re bandits,” declared Sofija. “The two who admitted it wouldn’t have done so if they weren’t. That means the other two are liars. They also killed at least some of the people they robbed. The last one, Harald, wouldn’t have blamed the dead one for murder otherwise.”

“Yes,” agreed Daenerys. That much was clear from their words, but she had also watched how they acted. “So, what should we do with them?”

“Like I said, they’re bandits.” Sofija shrugged. “We execute them. The same that we did for the bandits at Fort Greymoor and Silent Moons, and the poachers at Halted Stream Camp.”

“Is it the same?” Daenerys looked around Helgen. Most of the buildings were burnt out shells, but she still remembered being taken here and strapped down to the chopping block. Instead of the blow of the axe, she’d felt the hot breath of a dragon. While the Imperials had planned to execute her for the wrong reasons, she had more than earned death. She couldn’t explain now why she had burned down King’s Landing, but the gods had given her a second chance for reasons of their own. “The bandits at Fort Greymoor didn’t just steal. They enslaved, crippled, and repeatedly raped two women. We had two witnesses who confirmed their crimes. The bandits at Silent Moons died in combat. None surrendered. The poacher who survived, Elolir, I turned over to Jarl Balgruuf for judgment, but I paid his fine. He’s one of our scouts now.”

Sofija frowned. “They must have killed at least a few merchants.”

“Probably,” agreed Daenerys. “However, we don’t know whether they are all equally guilty. I’m fairly certain they weren’t raping women as two of them are women. More importantly, did you look at them? How well fed are they? How did they act?”

Sofija frowned. “They don’t look well-fed, but they aren’t starving either. They didn’t have to turn to banditry. There is plenty of game in the woods. As for how they acted, the one who accused the dead man of the murders reeked of guilt. The others were shifty. Are you saying we should turn them over to Jarl Siddgeir in Falkreath to be judged?”

“No,” Daenerys shook her head. “Falkreath is too far out of our way and what I’ve heard of Jarl Siddgeir doesn’t impress me, even if he did send a letter inviting me to visit. No, I’m thinking of something else. Let’s talk to Fultheim. I’ll need his agreement.”

.oOo.

Some hours later Daenerys gathered her troops to observe. She held a two-handed axe in hand to pass judgment, but she was hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. The four prisoners were bound and chained and being held in front of a chopping block. Not the same one she had been bent over. That one had burned to ash. This chopping block was just a charred beam from one of the houses. Daenerys had moved the amulet of Talos that she usually wore beneath her armor and placed it on top of her armor where everyone could see it around her neck.

“Timo, Marja, Reeta, Harald, I have listened to your stories. You have all committed banditry and are at least accomplices to murder. I’m here to pass judgment on your crimes.”

The two women, Marja and Reeta slumped over and started crying, but Timo and Harald stood tall and unblinking.

“I find you guilty and sentence you to death. If necessary, I stand ready to carry out your sentence. However, you were also driven from your homes. You were desperate, and I’m in doubt that you all participated equally. So, I will offer you a chance to earn your redemption, by joining the Dragonguard instead. Understand that this is a lifetime commitment. You will swear to me, to Talos, and all the gods to serve.”

“I’ll serve!” agreed Timo shortly followed by Harald. Marja also agreed after a short pause.

Reeta kept crying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I’m not a warrior. I’m not strong. If I was strong, I wouldn’t be here. I can’t. I can’t fight dragons.”

Daenerys stepped forward and tilted Reeta’s head up. She was a blonde woman that Daenerys judged to be in her twenties and was the wife of Timo. “You’ll be trained. I won’t throw you into the dragon’s mouth as bait, but I won’t budge either. Your oath or death. It’s your choice.”

Reeta kept sobbing, but she nodded her head. “I’ll swear.”

“Very well. All of you listen well. We’ll go over the wording until you get it right, and then I’ll take your oath.” Daenerys coached them through the oath. It took a while, but they all memorized it. “Very well, give your oath.”

The four of them stood side by side and recited. “Dragons gather, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I will take no spouse. I will father (bear) no children. I will hold no lands. I will claim no titles. When dragons fly overhead, I guard. When dragons roar, I stand. When dragons attack, I charge. I am the shield and the sword that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Dragonguard, for this day and all days to come.”

Daenerys watched as the oath was made. She’d modeled it on what she remembered of the Night Watch oath, but she changed for the circumstances. She found it surprising that all four of them seemed to take comfort in the oath instead of fear. Even Reeta seemed proud at the end.

“May Talos judge your oaths. Welcome to the Dragonguard,” she announced, and cheers broke out.

Even though there were several more hours of daylight, they camped in Helgen that night and celebrated. Daenerys was a little annoyed that they couldn’t dye armor black for her new recruits, but they were able to tattoo the dragon in flight on the back of their hands to mark them.

.oOo.

From Helgen they followed the Imperial road south as it climbed higher into the foothills of the Throat of the World. While their destination was High Hrothgar and the Greybeards was at the summit, they had to circle around to Ivarstead on the southeast side of the mountain. That was where the Seven Thousand Steps, the path to the summit started. This road was supposed to be a major trade route between the Rift and the rest of Skyrim, but they encountered only a few merchants. The few they did encounter warned them that caravans were unsafe. Some also mentioned a dragon hunting the mountain passes near Ivarstead.

Daenerys stayed with the caravan and set her scouts to exploring ahead. In addition to dragons, they were looking for Orphan Rock. It was a known hagraven nest and Danica Pure-Spring, the high priestess of Kynareth in Whiterun, had asked Daenerys if she would retrieve a special spriggan-slaying dagger from the hagravens who lived there. The High Priestess wanted the dagger as part of her plan to restore the dying Gildergreen tree in Whiterun. It was one of the many quests and favors that people had asked of her. Most of the time she just ignored the requests. While she was the Dragonborn, it wasn’t her responsibility to fix all of Skyrim’s problems. However, she had listened to Danica Pure-Spring because of her position. If it hadn’t been on her way, she would have politely refused. However, Orphan Rock just happened to lie on her path, so it did her no harm to try and obtain the dagger. The High Priestess no doubt expected her to kill the hagravens and claim the dagger. While capable of speech and adept at magic, hagravens were regarded as monsters by most Nords. The creatures were half-human with bird claws for hands and feet and a few feathers sprouting from their arms. They could obviously be reasoned with as they often aided the Forsworn, but that wasn’t a mark in their favor. Still, Daenerys planned to approach under a white flag and at least attempting to talk to them because they might know where to find the Glenmoril witches. She hoped it was possible to simply buy a spriggan-slaying dagger. She might even pay for other enchantments – provided it was possible to reason with them.

Sadly, her plan to talk instead of fight never got a chance. While looking for Orphan Rock, Jenassa stepped on a Frost Rune and was blasted by it. The explosion alerted the hagraven and her coven of followers who immediately started throwing spells at her scouting party. Fortunately, Aela had been with the scouts. Aela turned werewolf and tore apart the coven with her claws. Jenassa survived thanks to some quick healing potions.

Daenerys made sure to praise her scouts. While not getting a chance to talk to the hagravens about the Glenmoril witches was a disappointment, her follower’s lives took priority. Besides, her scouts had found several skeletons and corpses at Orphan Rock confirming the bad reputation that hagravens and their followers had was well-deserved. They had also found a named dagger called Nettlebane. Faralda confirmed that it was enchanted against spriggans, just as Danica Pure-Spring had requested. Nettlebane joined Azura’s Star and the black soul gem holding Grandfather’s soul in their secure fire-proof chest. It would be some time before she could either return it to the high priestess or visit Eldergleam Sanctuary to harvest the sap that would be required to restore the Gildergreen tree in Whiterun.

After another uneventful day of travel, they had a peaceful encounter that did involve talking. Her scouts encountered some Stormcloak scouts. They even managed to avoid shooting each other immediately. Once they identified each other the Stormcloaks agreed to let her forces pass as long as they stuck close to the road for the next few leagues. Reading between the lines it was clear that the Stormcloaks had a camp somewhere close by. That evening when the Dragonguard camped for the night, their commander paid her a visit under a flag of truce.

Thorygg Sun-Killer looked to be in his mid-thirties and was a ruggedly handsome Nord. He wore custom armor with spikes on his boots and gauntlets. Given that she wore her own custom dragon armor for their meeting, she couldn’t really judge him for his spikes even if they were a bit unusual. He was a civilized guest. They shared a meal and a bottle of wine in her tent. He asked more questions than he had information, but he did share that they had seen a dragon in the sky about every other week. That was one reason his men camped in the forest. He seemed to be up on current events as he was aware of the Dragonguard and even had been expecting her to pass by sometime soon. Daenerys was upfront about the Imperials in her party, but Thorygg had no issues with the Dragonguard being neutral in the Stormcloak Rebellion. Apparently, they moved their camp around quite a bit and would be long gone from their current encampment before the Imperials with her had a chance to report. He was also interested in her suggestion for ending the war peacefully.

“Well, I wish you luck with that, Dragonborn. I wouldn’t mind a peaceful solution. We’re not doing much fighting now, just hiding out in the woods. I haven’t received orders in weeks. However, are you aware of the Stormcloak oath?”

“No, I’m not.” Daenerys took a sip of wine. This sounded like an oversight on her part. “What is this oath?”

“Every Stormcloak takes an oath to Ulfric Stormcloak as the Jarl of Windhelm and the true High King of Skyrim. Now, even if you can get the Imperials to agree to your little compromise of Skyrim rejoining the Empire in return for our right to worship as we please, I don’t see them being at all eager to accept Ulfric as High King. I also don’t see him willing to step aside for peace. Do you?”

“No,” admitted Daenerys. “Even if he has never been elected by the moot.” After meeting with the man, she doubted he would step aside even if the moot elected someone else. He would probably just challenge whoever was elected to a duel.

“While your dream of a peaceful solution is a pleasant one, Dragonborn, I don’t see this ending in anything but blood. Right now, both sides are posturing, but it won’t last. Sooner or later someone will take a step too far and then blood will flow.”

“Only the Thalmor gain when men war against men.”

Thorygg shrugged. “Perhaps, but the Empire will not stand so long as it continues to bow to the Aldmeri Dominion. If things continue as they are now, the Empire will simply drag Skyrim down with it. While severing ties will hurt the Empire, it may be better for Skyrim in the long run.”

“And let the Aldmeri Dominon take over Tamriel piece by piece?”

“That didn’t work so well for them in Hammerfell now did it? The Redguards kicked their asses out and are doing just fine on their own.”

Daenerys sipped her wine. She didn’t agree, but Thorygg had some valid points. She also respected that he backed his points up with logic. “Well, at least we both agree on who the true enemy is.”

Thorygg smiled back. “That we do. Perhaps we might agree on other things as well.” His eyes lingered over hers.

Their conversation continued for a bit longer, with Thorygg’s hints becoming more bold as the evening progressed. However, he did nothing more than hint and was gracious when he took his leave. The discussion with Sofija afterward was interesting.

.oOo.

The road continued south and generally uphill. Daenerys stayed with the caravan. With a dragon hunting the passes, she didn't dare stray. She continued sending out scouting parties, but she kept her best archers with the main caravan. Her scouts encountered some wolves, but the main caravan didn't encounter anything worse than a frostbite spider that was easily dispatched. Daenerys spent the time planning with her advisors and having long talks with Sofija. She also practiced her magic.

After joining the Companions, she had focused on gaining at least a basic competency in hand-to-hand combat. She couldn't spar and march, but she could meditate and walk. She had learned Firebolt by combining **Fus** and **Yol** , and she wanted to take that to the next step. Her goal was a spell like Fireball that flew out and then exploded. She thought that combining **Toor** , Inferno, and **Fus** , Force, would do the trick, but as she meditated on the Words, she realized it simply wouldn't work. **Toor** , Inferno, by its nature was fire burning out of control, unrestrained. Combining it with **Fus** , Force, wouldn't result in a fireball, but a wave of fire in front of her. That didn’t seem all that useful. **Fus** and **Toor** just did not fit together well. She tried to add **Ro** , Balance, to the mix, but that didn't work either. However, **Yol** - **Fus** - **Ro** , Fire-Force-Balance, fit better. Not as good as **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** , but still a good fit. She could even guess at the result, the spell would work like Firebolt, but would have spin on it. That would make it more accurate and improve the range. After discussing her findings with Faralda, she decided to try to create the spell. While adding a longer-range fire spell to her arsenal might prove useful, she was more interested in determining if her intuition about the effect of spells based on Words would prove correct.

Three days after her meeting with the Stormcloak leader her meditation was interrupted by a barking dog. Startled she stumbled but caught herself before Sofija reached out to grab her. “I'm fine.”

“If you say so,” agreed Sofija. “I don't know how you meditate and walk.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Honestly, it works better for me than sitting and meditating.” She glanced over at the dog that had barked at her. It was a typical Skyrim canine, shaggy, lanky, and huge. The Nords bred them to hunt wolves and the dog stood taller than her waist and probably weighed more than she did without armor. It had gray-brown fur and deep soulful brown eyes. “Since when did we have a dog?”

Sofija shrugged. “It's a stray. It's been walking up and down the caravan for a while now begging for scraps.”

“Hmm.” Daenerys wondered if she should have acquired a few dogs. They wouldn't do much good fighting a dragon, but they would help detect intruders and would certainly spot any more Khajiit pretending to be housecats.

<You are exactly what I was looking for.>

Daenerys halted in her tracks and stared at the dog. She heard him bark, but she had clearly understood him. He spoke to her – in Valyrian! “Sofija? Did that dog just talk?”

The dog barked again. <Skyrim is now host to giant, flying lizards, and two-legged cat-men, and you're surprised by me? Yes. I just talked, and I am continuing to do so.>

“Lady Targaryen? Are you feeling well?” Sofija was clearly confused by the question.

<Don't bother. She can't understand me. As far as she's concerned I'm just going bark, bark, bark.> The dog walked up to her wagging its tail.

Daenerys started walking again as the caravan was still marching down the road and she didn't want to stop the march, but she felt unsteady. Despite what the dog claimed dragons were perfectly normal for Targaryens, and Khajiit were just one of the many intelligent races in Tamriel. Talking dogs were not normal. Was she losing her mind? It was in her blood. Targaryens were known for their bouts of insanity as much as their dragons. Her own father was called the Mad King. She’d lost her mind once and burned King’s Landing to the ground. She had seen a lot of strange things since coming to Skyrim. A talking dog would not be the strangest, but Sofija couldn’t hear him!

Sofija gently touched her shoulder. “My liege?”

“Walk with me, Sofija.” She stepped off the imperial road. The few trees were middle-sized pines along with a few larger stumps. Someone had logged this section of the road, but that had been a few years ago. She walked over to a nearby stump and sat down. “Be wary of the… canine. It’s not a dog.”

<Wrong. I'm a dog. Just not your everyday dog.>

“Obviously not since you’re talking to me in Valyrian.” Either that or she’d gone mad. Daenerys felt like grabbing her mace, but with her forces marching right behind her she didn't want to draw any more attention to the scene than she already had.

The dog dipped its head down and hunched its shoulders in a shrug. <Is that what you hear? I just speak so that you can understand me.>

Sofija held out her hand and conjured a sword. “I don't know what is going on here, but you’re right that the dog is acting strangely.”

<Well, she isn't as dumb as she looks. Could you tell her to put the glowing sword away? Getting stabbed really hurts. We're just talking here.> The dog sat down but continued to stare at her and his tail kept wagging.

Daenerys let out a sigh of relief. If Sofija thought the dog was behaving strangely, then she wasn’t going mad. “Sofija put the sword away. For now. Are there any intelligent dogs in Tamriel, like the Khajiit are intelligent cats?”

Sofija shook her head. “There are many beast races Khajiit, Argonians, Dreugh, Giants, Goblins, and others, but the closest thing to a canine race would be werewolves.”

<Wrong again. I already told you. I'm a dog.>

“Fine. Well, would you please include Sofija. I don’t want to play translator.”

The dog gave a very human shake of his head. <No, sorry. I'm sure she's good with that magic sword, but she just doesn't have that special something, but you do. You see, my name is Barbas, and I have a problem I think you can help sort out.>

“So, the dog says his name is Barbas, and he wants help with a problem... You know what, I'll just talk to the dog and fill you in later.”

Sofija nodded. “Yes, that might be best.”

<Does that mean you'll help me with my problem?> asked Barbas thumping his tail against the ground.

Daenerys sighed. “You and everyone else in Tamriel wants my help. What is it you want?”

<My master and I had a bit of a falling out. We got into an argument and it got rather... heated. He’s kicked me out until I find someone who can settle our disagreement. That’s where you come in.>

“You just want me to talk to your master? That's new. First time anyone ever wanted me to simply mediate a dispute. However, I'm a little busy. I'm not going halfway across Tamriel.”

<I know, I know... Wars to fight, dragons to confront, bandits to crush, but that's the best part. My master is at Haemar's Shame. It's a little cave not far from here. At the rate you're going you should be there by nightfall. It's a cave just a little bit off the road. Of course, you might want to do something about the vampires.>

“Vampires?” asked Daenerys.

“What vampires?” asked Sofija.

The dog barked loudly. <Yes, vampires. So, will you help?>

“Is your master a vampire?” asked Daenerys suspiciously.

“No, no, my master is definitely not a vampire. My master is Clavicus Vile, Daedric prince of wishes. As you can imagine, he's quite the important person.”


	15. Chapter 14

# Chapter 14

Tirdas, the 2nd of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys regretted not learning more about the Daedric Princes when she was at the College of Winterhold. Other than Azura they hadn’t seemed that important. She knew a little bit about each of them, but even what little she knew was inconsistent. Brelyna and other Dunmer considered Mephala and Boethiah to be two of the ‘Three Good Daedra’ while the Nords considered them among the worst. She knew little about Clavicus Vile. He was the Daedric Princes of Wishes. He was also known as a trickster who often twisted wishes for his amusement. She would prefer not to get involved with him at all.

However, she was quite concerned about a cave full of vampires that lay along the path her forces were marching. She briefly considered and rejected the possibility of sneaking past. Even if it was possible, and the vampires didn’t attack in the night, she couldn’t just ignore a vampire nest. They were probably feeding on the traders using the road that passed their cave. She would be no better than Jarl Siddgeir if she did nothing. So, she had her scouts locate the cave and gathered a team to attack.

Barbas wasn’t much help in planning. He described Haemar's Shame as ‘several large natural caverns linked by narrow tunnels’, but provided no other details. He also offered to lead the way and scoffed at the suggestion that he could be leading them into a trap. Daenerys was surprised that her small council readily accepted the dog talking to her and her alone. She even asked Faralda about it.

Faralda laughed. “The gods did not put the Red Comet in the sky for me. You killed a dragon with a handful of men. You have assembled a host to go to war on dragonkind. Four different Daedric Princes are meddling in your affairs. Last week it was a coven of necromancers. Today it is vampires. You overturned everything I knew about how magic works. Where you go, we follow…” her voice turned sad and forlorn. “…even me. I wanted to change magic. I may still see that happen. I know you’ll keep your promises, but to you it is an afterthought. You’re changing the entire world. A talking dog?” She shrugged. “It must be Tirdas.”

.oOo.

Barbas led them straight to the cave. It was just a short distance from the main road down a twisty overgrown path. Daenerys had planned to approach the cave stealthily, but Barbas gave a bark and charged on in.

“Advance. Cautiously,” she ordered and followed unsure whether Barbas was leading them into a trap or not. She had placed Jon Battle-born and Olfina Gray-mane as her vanguard for this fight. They were both skilled sword and shield fighters. Given that vampires had a reputation for being fast, powerful, and often spellcasters, she wanted her front line more focused on defense than offense. She was also meddling just a bit. While she considered herself a realist, a small part of her still wanted to believe that love, truth, and honor won out. Perhaps, fighting side-by-side would be the nudge the two star-crossed lovers needed to get over themselves. They obviously belonged in each other’s arms, but neither knew how to put what had happened behind them.

A narrow tunnel sloped down and soon opened into a large chamber. Barbas stood over a prone figure in a robe trying to rip out his throat while the man tried to fend off the dog’s teeth with his arms. A man and a woman also wearing robes stood around the struggling pair. Both of them had obvious fangs along with wrinkled and distorted faces, and their eyes looked golden in the torchlight – all signs of vampirism. The man gestured and launched a spear of ice into Barbas. The woman turned to face them and hissed at them.

Olfina broke left, Jon broke right, as the two of them charged in a pincer attack. That gave an opening for Daenerys and Faralda to cast spells. Vampires were known to be vulnerable to fire so Daenerys cast Firebolt while Faralda cast a much more powerful fire spell. Neither of them could cast any more after that because Jon and Olfina were too close to their opponents. Despite vampires supposed weakness to fire both were still fighting. Daenerys stepped out of the way, noting that Faralda did as well. Once they cleared the entrance Val and Sofija charged forward and entered the fray. As Ull and Jenassa entered behind them, Daenerys directed them to the left where another tunnel led deeper into the caverns. She turned back to find the battle for the first chamber was all but over. The vampires were fast and strong, but not enough to overcome two-on-one odds. Although one of them got a spell off that obviously hurt Olfina before the fighting was over.

Daenerys rushed up and healed Olfina. “I’ve got you.” She glanced over to Faralda. “Was that the Vampiric Drain spell?” The spell had come up in planning. It was a favorite of vampires, and stole life from the victim, weakening the target as it healed the caster.

Faralda nodded. “Yes. Did you see the red sparks moving from Olfina to the caster? That’s the mark of a drain spell. Most spells move from the caster to the target.”

Daenerys smiled at Faralda slipping into her professor lecture mode in the middle of clearing a vampire nest, but she had asked.

“Hurt like a bitch, too,” added Olfina. “Felt like hundreds of ants crawling under my skin. Thanks. For the healing.”

“Thank me later. No telling if anyone heard us. We need to get moving.” Jon hadn’t been injured, so she turned to the dog. “Barbas, are you hurt?”

Barbas barked and happily wagged his tail. <I was. Better now. Takes more than a bite or two to slow me down.> He ran down the tunnel leading deeper into the cave system.

“Barbas wait,” she called after him, but the dog was already gone. “Let’s go after him. We’ll loot later.” And apparently, she was going to have to have the same conversation with Barbas that she had with Farkas about not charging ahead.

They cleared the rest of the caverns much as they did the first one. Vampires proved to be much more dangerous than the coven of necromancers at Ilinalta’s Deep. They were strong and fast physically, and they were also capable spell casters. They favored their vampiric drain spell, but also cast frost magic. In addition to the vampires themselves, they encountered human thralls who fought alongside them. Most of the thralls were spellcasters as well, but a few of them fought with weapons. The vampires had a nasty habit of raising their thralls from the dead as soon as they died. That meant they had to kill them again. Fortunately for the Dragonguard, Daenerys had simply brought more manpower. Even in the largest room where they fought a half-dozen vampires and their minions, they fell quickly when she was able to bring her entire force into the room.

Although Daenerys couldn’t take complete credit for their success. A large part of it was due to Barbas. The dog charged with the fearlessness of a berserker, but Daenerys soon noticed that he had good reason to be unafraid. Nothing hurt him. She saw him hit by Frost magic, vampiric drains and even stabbed with a sword and none of it slowed him down. He didn’t even bleed when he was stabbed, although he did complain that it hurt. He slowed down after she scolded him charging off, but since he was apparently invulnerable and ran faster than any human, she had no problem with him leading every charge. While the vampires and their thralls tried to kill Barbas, she was able to move her troops into the chambers and into position.

Eventually, they reached a chamber with an altar and an enormous statue of a man wearing a toga holding up a horned helmet. The helmet bore a stylized visor that matched the statue’s face. This was undoubtedly a statue of Clavicus Vile. She wondered if it was possible to turn and walk away. She had come here to wipe out the vampires. All of her advisors had warned her that the Daedric Prince couldn’t be trusted. That was before she’d seen Barbas fight. Would the unkillable dog simply let her walk away? Despite his soulful eyes and his wagging tail, he had torn apart vampires without getting hurt once

She turned to face her followers. “Everyone back. This is between the dog, myself and…” She gestured at the statue. “Him.”

Barbas barked and nodded his head. <Thank you. If this works out, I'll make sure you're rewarded. Just don't trust any offer he makes you... okay?>

Daenerys nodded to Barbas. “Okay.”

She watched as her people backed off, but neither Lydia nor Sofija backed off very far. She stepped forward closer to the statue. Nothing happened. Was she supposed to pray? “Lord Vile?”

“Oh, are you here for your wish then?” The lips of the statue didn’t move, but she could clearly hear the words. It must be similar to the way Barbas talked. She did notice that he was speaking the language of Tamriel, not her homeland, but she wasn’t sure that meant anything. At least he didn’t shout like Meridia. He spoke with a drawl and sounded more like a spoiled child than a powerful being. “By all means, let's hear it. It's the least I could do since you already helped me grant one final wish for my last worshippers. They were suffering so from vampirism and begged me for a cure. Then you came and ended their misery! I couldn't have planned it better myself.”

Even knowing that the vampires wanted to be cured, she didn’t feel sorry for them, not when they had found human body parts scattered around their kitchen area.

“So,” continued Clavicus Vile. “What's your heart's desire? What kind of deal can we strike?”

“I’m not here for a deal, Lord Vile. It’s Barbas who has the wish. He wants to be reunited with his master.”

“Ugh. That insufferable pup? Forget it. Request denied. No deal. I'm glad to be rid of him. Even if it does mean I'm stuck in this pitiful shrine, in the back end of... nowhere. No, tell me, what do you want? You want something. Everyone wants something.”

“I don’t think what I want is within your power to grant.”

“Oh, ho, ho, a challenge. What is it that you want?”

She had known this was coming and had hours to think about a wish. Her first thought had been going back in time to before she burned down King’s Landing. To fix her greatest mistake. Could even a Daedric Prince be able to turn back time? Even if he could, what would happen to the Dragonguard? To the people of Skyrim? She had responsibilities here as well, and Sofija was far from ready. Not that it mattered. There were so many ways that wish could be twisted. What if she returned with no knowledge of her future? Would she go just go mad and burn down King’s Landing again? She could try to word her wish carefully, but Clavicus Vile would probably just take that as a challenge to find another way to screw her over. No, much better to go with her other wish.

“Can you Clavicus Vile personally destroy Alduin?”

“Well now, that’s your job isn’t it?” He sounded even more petulant than before. “You’ll either kill him or you won’t.”

She took a slow breath to hide what felt like a punch to her midriff. The gods really did expect her to somehow defeat Alduin. She had more or less expected it at this point. Grandfather had told her in his letter, but this confirmed it. It was up to her to kill the World Eater before he destroyed the world.

Clavicus Vile continued talking as if the end of the world wasn’t that big a deal. “If I was at my full power, I could do something to help you on your way…” He sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, you're almost as powerful as I am right now… But, that's just because half of my power resides in that mutt, Barbas. Come to think of it, I know of a win-win situation for both of us.”

Daenerys glanced over at Barbas, so he was basically part of Clavicus Vile. That would explain why he was unkillable. She also noticed that Clavicus Vile didn’t even try to claim he could destroy Alduin. “Not that I’m agreeing to a deal, but what is this win-win situation?”

“There's an axe.” His voice was so smarmy she could imagine him rubbing his hands together in glee. “An incredibly powerful axe. An axe powerful enough for me to have quite a bit of fun, indeed. If you bring it to me, I'll grant you a boon. No strings attached. No messy surprises. At least, not for you. As I recall, it's resting in Rimerock Burrow. Barbas can lead you right to it. The little mutt might even earn his place back at my side.”

An unspecified boon? Like she was falling for that. However, if it let her leave… “Barbas, do you know where this Rimerock Burrow is?”

He wagged his tail and barked. <North, almost to the Sea of Ghosts.>

She smiled. “I hope you’re not expecting it tomorrow.”

He laughed. “Silly dovahkiin, caught up in your mortal shell. Someday you’ll spread your wings and laugh. Fine, fine. A few days, a few months, a few years, it’s all just a blink of the eye, really. Just don’t forget the axe.”

“I won’t.” She curtsied, but only slightly. “Thank you, Lord Vile.” She turned and walked away. Sofija and Lydia were still waiting as was Faralda. “I suppose you only heard my half of that conversation?”

Sofija nodded. “Yes, my liege.”

“I’ll explain later. Let’s loot this place and go. The sooner we’re out of here, the better I’ll feel.”

Daenerys kept an eye on Barbas as they looted the cave. If she understood things correctly, she had an opportunity, but it seemed too easy. She grew up on the streets of the Free Cities. She knew how a con worked. She even worked as a shill for a few days while Viserys played lookout. Her job had been to place bets and win, making it look easy so that marks would join the game. She’d conned the masters of Astapor. She’d let them think that she was just a young girl, desperate for an army, and foolish enough to trade away a dragon for an army that the masters could replace in a couple of years. Was she being played now? Was Clavicus Vile really as weak as he claimed? Or was he setting her up?

As her people were loading up the wagons, she cautiously probed Barbas for answers. “So, how did I do with speaking with your master.”

<Not bad, but not good.> He stopped walking back and forth and sat down. <You avoided a deal. That’s good, but he didn’t like it when you asked him to destroy Alduin personally. That’s not his way. He likes manipulating people, nations, events. He doesn’t confront them himself.>

And Daenerys was pretty sure he also lacked the power to destroy Alduin. “So, Barbas, anything I should know about this axe?”

<It’s one of Clavicus's little jests. A wizard named Sebastian Lort had a daughter who worshiped Hircine. When the daughter became a werewolf it drove Sebastian over the edge. He couldn't stand to see his little girl take on such a bestial form. The wizard wished for the ability to end his daughter's curse. Clavicus gave him an axe.> Barbas thumped his tail on the ground clearly finding the story amusing.

That sounded just like every story she had heard about Clavicus Vile. “I see… He’s going to give me the axe isn’t he? And call that helping me to defeat Alduin?” Assuming he didn’t ‘give’ her the axe by burying it in her chest.

Barbas nodded. <Yes, that does sound like something he would do. Don’t worry about it. The axe isn't the only item dear old Clavicus has. You give him the Rueful Axe, and once we're reunited I’ll get you the Masque of Clavicus Vile instead. That’s much more your style. You’re already a leader, but the mask gives the wearer the silvertongue. That would help you more than the Rueful Axe, no matter how powerful the axe is.>

“I see. That does sound more useful.” She’d been told about the Mask. It was a well-known artifact of Clavicus Vile. The statue even depicted him holding the mask. While having a silvertongue sounded useful, the fact that she would be wearing such a recognizable daedric artifact would undermine its value. Who would trust the word of anyone who wore that helm? “So, when Daedric Princes make artifacts, they tie some of their power into them, right? That’s why he wants the axe back.”

Barbas nodded. <Yes, that’s more or less how it works.>

Truth or lies? While she didn’t trust Clavicus Vile, he had also claimed to have invested half his power into Barbas. “I don’t understand why Vile would cast you out then. That was like throwing away half his power wasn’t it?”

<Well... I guess you could say I got on his nerves. I tend to be the voice of reason and he finds that... irksome. He couldn't just kill me, you see. We're technically part of each other. But he was able to banish me from his domain. Of course, because of our separation, Vile is now much weaker. He can’t even manifest very far from one of his shrines. I guess he figured it was a small price to pay for not having to listen to me anymore.>

Would a Daedric Prince really put himself in a position of such weakness? “And can you do anything special with all that daedric power? Teleport us to Rimerock Barrow? Grant wishes?”

Barbas made a strange hacking bark that must have been laughter. <No, as long as we’re like this, there isn’t much either of us can do.>

She knew that wasn’t entirely true. “Not much? I did notice that those vampires and their thralls weren’t able to hurt you.”

<Oh, they hurt me plenty. I feel pain. I just heal really fast. Getting stabbed is the worst.>

“Hmm.” She studied the dog. Barbas was wagging his tail at her acting like a friendly dog, but she’d seen him fight vampires. From what she’d observed he’d done no more damage than any dog his size might do in combat. His power lay in his immunity to damage, or more accurately his ability to heal almost instantly. She wondered what would happen to Barbas if someone stabbed him and didn’t take out the sword. Could he heal then? Maybe he could, but if what she had learned was true, he could still be tied down, or thrown into a cage and be just as helpless as any dog to escape. Open the fight by shouting **Iiz** to freeze him in place, and they probably wouldn’t even lose anyone. Hopefully, she was just being paranoid. Barbas seemed reasonable. Maybe he really was as naive and friendly as he was acting.

Daenerys glanced over to Sofija to make sure she was alert. Her housecarl was paying close attention even though she was only hearing half the conversation. Behind Sofija she noticed that Jon Battle-born and Olfina Gray-mane were walking side by side and talking. Daenerys took it for a good omen. They weren’t back together yet, but talking was more than they’d done so far. They’d just needed a little nudge.

She turned back to the dog. “Actually, Barbas, now that I think about it, I’m not that interested in either the mask or the axe. I have something else in mind that I would rather have then either of them.”

Barbas shook his head. <I don’t advise that. Vile will twist any wish you make.>

Daenerys smiled. “Oh, I know. That is why I want payment in advance. What I want, is you, Barbas.”

<Hey now, I’m not looking for a new master. Clavicus Vile is no saint, but I’m his dog. He’s my master. I don’t want another.>

“Not permanently. He said that waiting for a few years was nothing for him. You stay by my side, you fight my enemies, you protect both me and my followers until Alduin and the dragons are defeated. You do that and then I will help you get the axe and deliver it to Clavicus Vile.”

<Yeah? And what if Alduin defeats you? I can smell the destiny on you, but that’s no guarantee you win.>

Daenerys shrugged. “If I lose, what does it matter? Alduin will destroy the world, won’t he?”

Barbas’s tail drooped. “Probably. He might just want to rule it again. Not that would be much better. Fine. You have a deal. Until you defeat Alduin, or he kills you. Shake on it.” He held out a paw.

Daenerys took the dog’s paw in hand and shook. Hopefully, he would be as good as his word, because an unkillable dog would be a powerful asset. Who knows, maybe if she was nice to Barbas she could sway his allegiance and he wouldn’t even want to go back to his master. “Say, Barbas, how much of a dog are you? Do you like to play fetch?”

Barbas’s tail thumped on the ground. <Sometimes. I’m not your everyday dog, but I’m still a dog.>

Daenerys smiled and picked it a branch off the ground. It was a little too big for fetch so she broke off the end. “Well then, let’s play.” She tossed the stick.

Barbas ran after it.


	16. Chapter 15

# Chapter 15

Loredas, the 4th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

The long summer days of Skyrim still felt strange to Daenerys. She knew the reason. It was the same on Nirn as it was on Planetos. The farther north one went, the longer the nights were in winter, and the shorter the days were in summer. However, the long nights of winter hadn't seemed so strange when she spent almost all her time inside the well-lit and warm halls of the College of Winterhold. Eighteen hours of daylight, on the other hand, felt wrong. Even after a full day marching, clearing out the vampire's nest of Haemar's Shame, and then making camp, it was still daylight outside her tent. Unfortunately, her day wasn't over either. While most of her followers were sleeping now, she still had a meeting with her small council.

Daenerys took her place at the head of the war table. There was no map on the table, not that maps of Skyrim that she had managed to obtain were of much use. The maps covered the major landmarks and roads, they lacked detail. All a map would have done was show that they were somewhere upon the Imperial road that ran from Helgen to Ivarstead. Most of her council looked tired as they took their seats. Lydia was annoying alert, but she had several hours of sleep in the back of a cart while the rest of them walked. Her handmaiden, Raina, served them all hot tea and left a pot on the table in case they wanted more.

Daenerys waited until her handmaiden limped outside before she convened her small council. “I know we’re all tired. We'll let everyone sleep in tomorrow and make a late start. I did not want to camp near Haemar's Shame. Camilla, we can hear about the loot we recovered tomorrow. Let's deal with the obvious issue - Barbas.”

The dog in question looked up from where he was laying on the floor of the tent. <Hey, are you talking about me?>

“Yes, Barbas. Just lay there and listen. I'm not going to relay your words.” She paused a moment to regather her thoughts. “I’ve spoken with some of you briefly, and I'll explain now for everyone, but before I do what is the mood of the camp? What are people saying about Barbas?”

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Fultheim spoke up, “They know he's a daedra, a lesser daedra obviously since he looks like a dog, but still a daedra. People don't gossip when I'm around, but I overheard some of them talking about it. They don't like it, but they aren't sure what to think, because you're you. Some of them would jump off a cliff if you told them they'd grow wings before they hit bottom.”

“I probably heard more than the rest of you,” said Camilla. “I guess I'm not as scary as the rest of you, so people are more likely to talk to me. There were people who heard your side of the conversation with... the Daedric Prince of Wishes. Jon Battle-born, Olfina Grey-mane, some others. I don't know who talked, but rumor has it you made a deal with Clavicus Vile and got Barbas in return.”

Daenerys nod. “That's actually not far from the truth. How do they feel about that?”

Camilla frowned. “Uncomfortable. Plenty of people saw Barbas fight. Rumor has it that nothing hurts him. While they like the idea of having a powerful daedra on our side, a daedra is still a daedra and can’t be trusted. Plus Clavicus Vile is a known cheat. They're afraid he'll turn on us.”

Barbas stood and gave a low growl. <My master doesn't cheat! If mortals are too stupid to pay attention to important details, that's their problem.>

Daenerys stood and slammed her hand on the table. “Barbas! You will not threaten any of my followers. You are sworn to protect them. Your master has a deservedly bad reputation with men and mer.”

<Well, yes, but he's not a cheat.>

“Don't push me, Barbas. You’re strong but no stronger than a mortal dog your size. I know you still get hurt. Both I and my followers can attack you, but you cannot fight back without breaking your word.” She inhaled deeply, ready to Shout **Iiz**. She had planned to treat Barbas with the carrot and not the stick, but she would not allow him to threaten her followers either. If Barbas was stronger than he let on, or if their deal wasn't binding things might be about to get ugly.

<You... you... you tricked me! You magnificent bitch! You. Tricked. Me.> Barbas made that strange hacking bark that he used for laughter. Either that or he was choking on a bone. <Fine, fine, I'll be a good doggie.> He lay back down on the floor of the tent.

Daenerys sighed as the tension left her. This wasn’t going to turn into a fight. However, she wasn’t going to leave it there either. “Not good enough, either of you. Camilla, he took offense that you called his master a cheat. Clavicus Vile is a trickster and a reprobate, but not a cheat. Would you please rephrase? And then I want the two of you to shake hands.”

Camilla had turned pale, but she nodded her agreement. “Barbas, I’m sorry that I called your master a cheat.” She looked over at Daenerys and then continued. “He is only a trickster.” Very hesitantly she held out her hand.

Barbas looked at her without getting up.

“Barbas!” Daenerys put steel into her words. “She apologized. She is under my protection and your oath.”

<Fine. Fine. I won’t scare your minions.> He got up and put his paw in hers. <Apology accepted.> After they shook he went back and lay down on the floor.

“Daenerys sat back down in her seat. “So… that was awkward, but at least it proved what I was about to share. Yes, I made a deal, but I made it with Barbas, not with Clavicus Vile. Barbas is sworn to follow me and aid both me and my followers until either Alduin is defeated or I die. He is not invulnerable. He merely heals very fast. That means he can be hurt. He can also be muzzled or thrown in a cage and rendered helpless.”

Barbas lifted his head up. <Did you have to share that with them?>

Daenerys looked at Barbas. “Yes, Barbas. I did have to share that with them. You made it necessary by threatening Camilla. She is loyal and trustworthy and did not deserve your threats.”

<Yeah, yeah.> He closed his eyes. <Still can’t believe you tricked me. At least you’re a worthy temporary master.>

Daenerys nodded her approval, not for his lack of apology, but that Barbas was already considering her a ‘temporary master’. That was a good start. “Now then, we will not be advertising his weaknesses, but you can share that he is sworn to protect all of us until Alduin is killed. That should hopefully calm down the worst of the rumors. I know it will take time, but as people see him fighting for us, I hope they’ll at least accept him.”

Faralda nodded. “Most likely they will because you are the Dragonborn. It’s not like you’re the only famous hero who ever made a deal with a daedra. History is full of such stories, the Hero of Kvatch, the Vestige, the Nerevarine, and many others. Although many of them ended badly.”

Daenerys nodded. “I intend to win. If that means taking some risks or using unsavory means, then so be it. If there are no other questions, we can call it a night.”

“I have one bit of other business. I’m having trouble with two of the four you swore in at Helgen. Timo and Marja keep sneaking off. I don’t think I have to draw you a picture as to why. You said they couldn’t father or bear children. I’m not the purity watch. I not going to keep them from screwing.”

Daenerys forced herself to keep a neutral face as she absorbed this latest problem. “I don’t expect you to do so, Fultheim. Send them to me. I’ll make it clear to them that their oath requires Marja to drink Dibella’s Tears if she conceives.” And now she was forcing women to end pregnancies, but it wasn’t the same as the whole Battle-born fiasco. Marja had sworn an oath. “Camilla, dock both their wages until they can pay for a bottle. And pick up some bottles to add to our potion stories. She isn’t the only woman following my banner. We’ll likely need some eventually.”

“Yes, my liege,” agreed Camilla. She still looked a little shaken.

“Great, now if there is no other business, let’s all get some rest.”

.oOo.

The road after leaving Haemar's Shame was to the east, downhill and peaceful. They encountered nothing more dangerous than a few brave merchants daring the passes. They traveled in small groups. Most of them eschewed carts and traveled with a loaded down mule or two. A few daring ones traveled with a single cart usually loaded down with Black-briar mead. They were all thrilled to learn of the existence of the Dragonguard, but none of them were eager to linger very long. Daenerys continued to work on creating a spell based on **Fus** , **Ro** and **Yol** while walking, but she also spent time playing fetch with Barbas. Unfortunately, Barbas also liked to share stories about his master. Every story he shared just confirmed that making a deal with Clavicus Vile was foolish in the extreme, and Barbas seemed to have a never-ending supply of stories.

<So, one time Vile and I were in the Imperial City.> Barbas tail wagged as he walked and talked beside her. “Nice place. Well, it was back then before the Aldmeri Dominion redecorated with siege engines. Fun people, too. Everyone trying to climb over everyone else to get to the top, and there was this noble, Cassius Cenaeus, or as Vile called him C.C. Now, C.C. he was already a wealthy man, but he wanted more. Clavicus promised to grant him wealth beyond his wildest dreams. Now, he had to do something for my master first, of course.>

Daenerys nodded. “Of course, it wouldn’t be a deal otherwise.” She’d learned that much. Clavicus Vile loved making deals and they usually required a sacrifice of some sort.

<Exactly! So Clavicus told C.C. to go to his shrine at midnight and there would be a figure in a red hood praying at his shrine. All C.C. had to do was kill the stranger and wealth beyond his wildest dreams would be his.>

“Let me guess, the hooded figure was a loved one?”

<Yeah, his wife! Have I told you this one before?>

“No, you haven’t told me about C.C. before. It was just a lucky guess,” she replied. Although there wasn’t much guesswork to it. Setting someone up to unknowingly kill one of their loved ones was one of Clavicus Vile’s favorite ploys. “So, he killed her?”

<Ran her through with his sword! And guess what Clavicus Vile gave him for that?>

“Wealth beyond his wildest dreams?” She played it straight, knowing that Vile would, of course, twist it.

<Yes and no! See, there is nothing beyond the wildest dreams of mortals, so nothing is what he got! Then he pulled back the hood and realized he killed his wife. You’ve heard of falling on your sword? C.C actually did it!>

“Charming. I think I’ll meditate now, Barbas.”

Barbas stopped talking and left her to her thoughts, but rather than meditate she kept thinking of Barbas and Clavicus Vile. The Daedric Prince of Wishes was well-named. The glee he took in lives destroyed was truly vile. She had been so smug when she thought she had forged her own deal with Barbas instead of his master, but she already regretted her bargain. If Barbas truly had no power except being immune to harm, the best thing for Nirn would be to throw the dog in the darkest pit she could find and leave him there. That way Clavicus Vile might never regain his power. Instead, she had made a deal for an unkillable dog that committed her to return the axe. That would give the daedric prince enough power to have ‘a bit of fun’. It had seemed a fair bargain at the time, but with every story she regretted her choice more. Perhaps that was even what Barbas wanted, to rile her up so much that she would retrieve the axe just to be rid of him. Yet, there were times when he acted like a normal dog, and he was keeping his end of the bargain. Barbas never slept, but he would lay down in her tent at night keeping watch while she slept, and he loved to play fetch. When he stopped talking it was easy to think of him as just a dog.

Daenerys took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Second-guessing her decision was pointless. Barbas had agreed to fight for her until she defeated Alduin, who was by all accounts a god. If she somehow managed that and lived through it, then she could worry about Barbas.

She took another breath and focused on her Words and the spell she was attempting to create. **Yol** , Fire, with **Fus** , Force, and **Ro** , Balance. It felt right. It should let her throw a blast of fire with spin on it that would be more accurate and go farther than her Firebolt spell. She could visualize it, a spiraling spear of fire-

“Dragon!”

The shout snapped her out of her meditation even as someone blew a horn. She looked in the sky and spotted him. He'd seen them. He was closing fast, but far enough away that they had a little bit of time to prepare. “Empty Center Formation!” she yelled as loud as she could over the cries of alarm and anticipation.

The drivers of the two carts ahead of her whipped their oxen and sent them surging forward before pulling them to a halt. Her people started running all over the place, but it was an organized chaos. Melee fighters rushed a short distance off the road before falling to the ground and covering themselves with their shields. Non-combatants and archers grabbed shields from the carts before making their own run for shelter. She spotted Olfina Grey-mane and Jon Battleborn working together to help her lame handmaiden, Raina, to safely shelter beneath shields before they hid side-by-side. Her archers still scrambled about. They were supposed to not just drop but find a place where they could fire from cover. However, there was little cover to be found in this barren mountain pass. Only a few stunted trees and hardy shrubs poked out of the scree of stones that lined the roads. Faralda had found a boulder half her size but it was better than nothing. She saw Jenassa directing another archer to shelter behind a bush that barely came to his waist before she went to the ground and covered herself with her shield. Daenerys didn't see Elolir. Ull and Aela were up ahead somewhere scouting. She checked behind to see that the drivers behind had already blocked the wheels of their wagons and abandoned their carts and oxen.

Daenerys strode forward and stood in the middle of the open space created as the two lead carts pulled their oxen to a sudden halt. Their drivers scrambled out fearfully and blocked the wheels before they dashed away and took cover on the ground. As the dragon closed Daenerys took a quick look around. She was standing at the center of the kill zone. The lead and trailing carts held her two ballistae, both should be knocked and ready now. The two middle carts and all the oxen were bait. There hadn't been enough warning to even attempt to unload their supplies and loot on the middle carts. They would have to salvage what they could after the fight. Her archers were hidden as best they could be for the terrain. Even the ones she could see were crouched low and frozen motionless. The dragon wouldn't pay much attention to them compared to the oxen stamping, stomping and pulling at their harnesses. Best of all the dragon was lining up to come at them straight up the road. He was coming in fast, but this was the best approach for her ballistae to score a hit.

"Strafing run from the east! Archers ready!"

<And we're just going to stand here and take it?> asked Barbas.

She glanced over to Barbas and shrugged. “I'm going to Shout. You don't have to stay.”

“Are you sure you're not a Nord?”

“No, I’m a Targaryen.” She stood taller as she reminded herself of that. “Our words are Fire and Blood. We don’t run from dragons. We ride them into battle.”

The dragon flared his wings as he pulled out of his dive late. He must have almost brushed the ground as he pulled up. He rose back to tree level. He shouted, “ **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** ,” as he strafed the road.

Daenerys stood her ground as both carts in front of her exploded into pieces. She saw arrows from both sides, but she didn't let them distract her. As the fireball raced at her she shouted a single word. “ **Iiz**!”

Dragonfire enveloped her and she was blasted back rolling across the cobblestone road and slamming into something. She briefly channeled healing magic and forced herself to her feet. She had been thrown into one of the oxen behind her. The cow wasn't quite dead, but its legs were broken. She reached for a magicka potion in her beltpouch and found that her beltpouch was missing - no potions then. She looked about. The rearmost cart had survived, and the ballistae crew were scrambling back into the cart, so they still had one working ballistae.

Barbas walked up to her his tail between his legs. His skin was burnt and raw, but as he returned to her side the burns healed and his fur coat grew back out. <Woo, that was fun. When we're done here, how about we jump in a volcano for an encore?>

“Hush. We're not close to done.” The dragon was now circling in the sky just above easy arrow range. She walked away from the dying cow and out into the road. She saw a shield move on the ground and Sofija peeked out. Daenerys snapped her fingers at her housecarl and shook her head. Now was not the time for the melee fighters to betray their position. Why was the dragon just circling? Had one of the ballistae bolts struck true? Or had **Iiz** actually worked? She knew the Shout was less effective on larger creatures, but she had hoped that the freezing Shout would impair a dragon's wings, maybe even enough for it to crash.

She took a deep breath and yelled at the dragon. “Daar. Joriin. Dii!” These people mine. Another deep breath. “Bovul. Daar. Staad!” Flee. This. Place!

The rumble in the sky was the sound of a dragon laughing and not thunder. “Krumah mal kiir. Daar. Staad. Dii!” Kneel little child. This. Place. Mine!”

This place mine. The same words she had instinctively used to challenge Mir-Mul-Nir and claim his territory as hers. This dragon was surprisingly offering her a chance to yield. Not that she could or would. She screamed her defiance at him. “Neh!” Never!

The dragon dove again, wings folded up against his side and plummeting like a stone, if stones were the size of a small hill.

<Are you sure you aren't the Nordborn? Because sensible people know not to piss off the flying murderbeasts.>

She ignored Barbas, but his snarky commentary steadied her for some reason. “Strafing run from the west!” she called as she braced herself to face the dragon.

In front of her, the cart holding her last ballistae jettisoned his cover so it could spin around and face the south. Daenerys knew the dragon would likely spot the movement and thus the ballistae, but she could do nothing to stop it. At least the ballistae would have a straight shot.

The dragon flared his wings diving low and this time as it pulled up it also did a barrel roll spinning about his axis before it breathed fire, and her final ballistae was destroyed by dragonfire. She hadn’t seen the ballistae fire. They held their shot too long and they died. She recognized that even as she braced herself. Just before dragonflame reached her she Shouted, “ **Iiz** ” again. This time she was only on the edge of the flames. She staggered back but kept her feet as the dragon swept on past her.

A glance back at the trailing ballistae showed that it was nothing but kindling. Weeks of effort and training men, and both her ballistae destroyed in just two passes by a dragon. She had known it was a gamble but had thought it one worth taking. At least one crew was dead, perhaps both crews, and she had nothing to show for it. She knew some of her archers at least had fired arrows during each pass. Faralda had attacked as well, but her plan for creating a kill zone wasn't working. She pushed those thoughts away. Stopping to count the cost in the middle of a battle was a foolish distraction. She had to adapt as best she could. The dragon was already coming back for another pass and this time it was heading to the north side.

“Strafing run to the north! Shelter north!” She watched with approval as Faralada, Jenassa, and other archers on the north side took shelter under their shields.

Daenerys watched as the dragon took another pass, this time breathing fire near where her people were hidden. The dragon aimed among the broken rocks where her archers hid and all she could do was hope that the tower shields would provide shelter for them. A few archers behind her fired at them as the dragon passed, but he was moving fast. She could have gotten off an Ice Spike, but the dragon was moving too fast. She decided to save her magicka for a better opportunity.

The dragon continued well past where her forces were camped before it came around again. She cursed as she recognized what he was doing. This dragon was smart. He was trying to take out all her forces from the air. He’d seen her archers attack, so he was going after them. Hopefully, he hadn’t spotted her warriors hiding under their shields alongside the road. He probably knew he missed some archers, but he would expect at most a few survivors who couldn’t effectively fight back. He was wrong. Most of her forces were melee fighters hidden close to the road, and her archers and Faralda weren’t dead. At least she hoped they weren’t.

“Strafing run to the south! Shelter all. Shelter ALL!”

<You know we’re next.>

“I know Barbas. I’m counting on it.” And counting on the tower shields to have worked. She watched as the dragon made his past to the south and breathed fire on the slopes. He was off, not even that close to some shields she saw, so at some of her archers would survive. “Barbas, run circles around me.”

<What? Running in circles? That’s your plan?>

She reached down and gave Barbas a rub on the head. “Yes. You can whine like you’re scared, and you want me to leave.”

<I do want you to leave! This is stupid.>

“You promised, Barbas. This is not even Alduin, and this isn’t stupid. It’s a trap and we’re staying. We’re the bait.” She watched as the dragon started climbing back into the sky. “He’s started his run. He’s got a pattern. He’ll climb high, dive to the ground, pull up, then strike. He’s hit everyone else, and he knows we can take dragon breath. He might hover and flame us again, but I bet he comes in to land.”

<And we stand here?>

“Yes, Barbas. We stand.” She watched as he began his dive. “Prepare for landing!”

Wings folded the dragon dropped, falling, falling from the sky gathering speed. He seemed sure to crash into the ground, but he flared his wings at the last moment. He shot back up triumphant.

For a moment she thought that she had guessed wrong and he was going to hover and breathe fire, but he was just breaking his momentum. He shifted his wings to bleed speed and glided in. He landed on the remains of a supply wagon with enough force to shake the ground and reduce the cart to kindling. He advanced slowly, clearly drawing out the moment. Each step he took was deliberate as if he had all the time in the world.

She lifted her mace. The wolf inside her wanted to answer the challenge and charge the dragon, but her job wasn’t to engage the dragon herself. Her job was to keep his attention focused on her. “Fire and Blood!” she screamed, uttering the words of her house as a war cry, as Sofija had done before her. “Attack!”

Like the fallen dead answering the call of the Night King, her soldiers hiding beneath their shields rose from where they were hidden. They screamed their defiance and charged. Suddenly it was not just her and Barbas along against a dragon, but dozens of her followers surrounding it. The soldiers that Fultheim had trained charged with their spears. Lydia charged forth from one side with shield and axe. Salim Bashir swung his curved Redguard sword. In a streak of light two powerful Ice Spears slammed into the dragon. From somewhere on the other side of the dragon she heard Sofija echoing her cry, “Fire and Blood!”

The dragon fought back buffeting the attackers with his wings as it whirled around trying to clear space with his tail. It struck out on all sides with teeth and claws. Then crouched to launch himself in the air.

Realizing that it was about to escape Daenerys reached inside for her magicka and Shouted, “ **Iiz**.”

Whether it was her Shout or some other damage, the leap that should have propelled the dragon into the air failed. Instead, he made an awkward hop and came crashing back down onto the ground catching himself on his forelegs. His eyes locked onto Daenerys, and he surged ahead simply bowling over Salim Bashir who was trampled beneath. He snapped out at her with his teeth.

Daenerys raised her shield and blocked the blow, but the impact still knocked off her feet and onto her back. She rolled to her knees trying to get back to her feet. Fultheim and Barbas charged past her, getting in the dragon’s face and buying her time. As she regained her feet, she noticed the dragon was rearing his neck to breathe. She launched herself at Fultheim from behind an attempt to knock him to the ground and cover him.

The dragon breathed. Barbas yelped. Fultheim screamed. The fire bothered her not at all, but the blast threw her up into the air and she came down spinning and tumbling. She didn’t release her shield in time, and as she rolled across the cobblestone road something in her shoulder gave way. When she finally bumped to a stop she released her shield. The world was spinning around her, but she pushed herself up with her right hand. She’d lost her mace, her shield arm wasn’t working, and the world was still spinning, but she stood.

In front of her the dragon was dying. Not of one mortal blow, but of dozens of cuts. His wings were in tatters. His reactions were slowing, but he wasn’t quite dead. Fultheim was dead. Her vertigo settled as she focused on his corpse. The burns were bad enough. She could see bone poking through his flesh, but even worse his head was caved in. No amount of magic could cure him. Dead was dead.

A rage lit in her belly and she grabbed her mace and charged the dragon. Salim Bashir and Lydia blocked her path, but she found an opening and smacked it with her mace. It didn’t even notice with all his wounds, but the dragon died soon after. He just collapsed to the ground. She could feel his soul flicker and weaken.

Instinctively, she Inhaled and his soul caught fire. The dragon began to burn from the inside, his flesh glowing and flaking away revealing his bones as she breathed in his soul. **Lok** - **Nos** - **Dov**. Sky-Strike-Dragon, or The Dragon who Strikes from the Sky. **Lok** - **Nos** - **Dov**. His Words were his pride, his joy his being, his all. To fall from the open sky, to embrace the pull of Mundus, to pull out and the last moment and strike…

Daenerys looked around. She was standing in a warm pile of ash. Her shoulder didn’t hurt. Her armor was loose in places. No doubt some of the straps had burned, but at least she wasn’t naked. Everyone was kneeling again. At least those that hadn’t died. Fultheim still lay where he’d fallen. As she looked around, she realized that she’d lost many more. She’d lost both ballistae crews with their weapons. How many others? Most of them had lived. She started mentally taking inventory of who was alive: Sofija, Faralda, Camilla, both her servants, Salim Bashir, the Companions. They were all kneeling with their heads bowed, even Gaius Paulinus and the rest of the Imperials. The only one who looked at her was Sofija, but even her eyes almost glowed with hero worship.

“Rise! Stand! This is not just my victory. This victory belongs to all of us. The dragon Lok-Nos-Dov is dead. Give praise to the Nine! Victory!”

Slowly they all stood and cheered.

She forced a smile as they all crowded around her cheering. If she hadn’t been wearing armor, they probably would have hoisted her into the air. Really, it was a victory. Her forces deserved to celebrate, but Fultheim was gone, as were many others. She couldn’t afford costly victories like this. Somehow, someway she had to do better.


	17. Chapter 16

# Chapter 16

Loredas, the 4th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Fultheim's loss hurt like an old wound, just a scar on the surface, but an ache deep inside. Daenerys wasn't a naive young girl any longer if she had ever been one. Men died in battle, not just the bad or the incompetent. She had seen time again that one skilled warrior could take a dozen fools with a sword, but numbers mattered as well. Barristan Selmy, Jorah Mormont, and Skjor had all been brought down by numbers, but sometimes it was chance or fate instead of numbers. An infected wound had taken her Sun and Stars from her, and a dragon had taken Fultheim. She had survived the fire. Fultheim was gone.

When she had talked to her small council about the possibility that any of them could die, she had been preparing them to accept Sofija her second. It had been necessary to ensure the Dragonguard continued if she fell. She had mention Fultheim as essential as an example, but she hadn't really considered the possibility that he would fall before her. Now she had to somehow go on without him. She hadn't been looking for a man like Fultheim. She had simply stumbled into him at the Nightgate Inn. At first he was just another warrior for her cause. She had great warriors follow her before: Grey Worm, Barristan Selmy, Grey Worm, Daario Naharis, and Jon Snow. Yet, all of them seemed to believe that she either knew nothing or everything. They would sometimes try to tell her she was wrong, but they never taught her. Fultheim had shown her how to be a better leader, maybe even a better person. Not that she was blind to the man’s flaws. He was an irritable grouchy drunk. At least he had been a drunkard. He had cut back a lot. Somehow, he had pulled himself out of his cups. Or had she done that when she had given him a purpose again? If she hadn’t stopped at the Nightgate Inn, he would probably still be alive and still drinking that life away. According to the Nords, she’d done him a favor. He’d met death on his feet as a warrior instead of drinking himself to death. Maybe he was happy in Sovngarde. Maybe.

As much as her heart wanted to grieve, she couldn’t. Without Fultheim all eyes were on her now. Her people needed purpose and direction, and there was much to do. All four carts had been destroyed and most of their supplies with them. Every soldier had at least a day’s rations in their packs, but they were still in the mountain passes. Game was scarce and there was nothing to forage. They should be into the foothills soon, but her people had to eat. She set people to sorting through the wreckage of the carts to see if any food could be salvaged with Camilla to oversee it. She charged Elolir with overseeing butchering what was left of the oxen that had pulled the carts. They would need the meat for the next few days. She made Val responsible for gathering the dead and making arrangements for their burial. Fultheim deserved a funeral pyre. It was the Nord tradition for warriors, but they didn’t have enough wood. The fallen would have to be buried in rocky graves with a cairn of stones. There were plenty of stones to be had. She tended the injured herself. While Faralda and Jenassa could heal themselves, Daenerys was the only one skilled enough at Restoration to heal others. Potions were for emergencies, not for healing after the battle was over. Healing the injured also gave her an excuse to put off talking to Gaius Paulinus, but she knew that conversation couldn’t be postponed for long.

Once the healing was done, she checked with Camilla and confirmed that the fireproof chest had survived along with Azura’s Star, the black soul gem that likely held Grandfather’s soul, and their small supply of potions. After that, there was simply no delaying any further because Gaius was standing at attention waiting.

Gaius Paulinus stood like a wall, solid and immovable. His once brown hair was mostly silver and thinning. He was old enough to be her father, but not her grandfather. While he lacked the vitality of youth, he more than made up for it in skill, experience, and sheer grit. He was cleanly shaven in the Imperial fashion. Everything about Gaius Paulinus was Imperial: his name, his armor, his looks, his speech, and his actions. He didn’t suffer fools, and she had heard him reduce a man to a quivering wreck with nothing but his words. Despite his constant foul-mouthed cursing, he rarely had cause to berate his men. His men looked up to him, and she admired him for that. However, she had never warmed to him. Gaius Paulinus was loyal, but his loyalty was to the Empire. She had a hard time trusting a man whose allegiance lay elsewhere.

“Lady Targaryen.” He saluted in the Imperial manner, right hand out, straight and level with the ground below. He held the pose waiting for her reply.

“At ease, Paulinus.” The use of just his nomen was slightly less formal than using his full name, and she wasn’t close enough to him to use his praenomem. “Walk with me. We need to talk.” She started off down the road, heading downhill.

He followed her easily keeping pace. “We do need to talk, but I have something to report first.”

She glanced at him, but his face revealed nothing. “Very well, report.”

“In the confusion of the battle, two of the Dragonguard fled, Timo and Reeta. They took a horse with them.”

Daenerys nodded her understanding. Timo and Reeta were the older married couple that she had forcibly conscripted into the Dragonguard at Helgen. Reeta was likely the cause. She had begged not to join, and she hadn’t been fitting in as a soldier. Daenerys had tried to give them a chance, but this couldn’t be forgiven. “They won’t get far riding double. When Aela and Ull get back, mount Elolir and Jenassa on our two remaining horses. Have them track down the deserters.”

He nodded. “You want them dead or alive?”

“I prefer them dead, but they need to be brought back to camp dead or alive. I’d rather not make a spectacle of their execution, but people need to see the cost of desertion, especially for those sworn for life.” She had enough of death today, but it wasn’t enough for the two deserters to die. The Dragonguard had to see they were punished. It would hurt morale too much to let them go unpunished.

“I’ll see to it,” agreed Gaius.

“What of Harald and Marja?” The brother and sister pair were not related to Timo and Reeta. They were younger, either late teens or early twenties. Daenerys had the impression that they were settling in to being soldiers better.

“They’re the ones who reported the desertion. I would have found out eventually, but they came forward. I’ll keep an eye on them, but I don’t think they’ll cause trouble.”

Daenerys nodded. That Harald and Marja had reported the desertion was a good sign. Perhaps her offer of mercy would yet bear fruit. They walked on in silence for a little bit. Some carrion birds circled overhead and Daenerys wondered how they knew so quickly that the battle was done. However, she was stalling. Clearly, Gaius had nothing more to report. “You know what we need to talk about as well as I do. You were Fultheim’s second. I need someone to oversee the entire Dragonguard. Are you willing to step up to that position?”

“Yes. It falls within the scope of my orders for detached duty. I’m to follow you as if you were my commanding officer – unless you attack the Empire or declare for the Stormcloaks.”

Daenerys took a moment to consider that reply. Gaius had never shared his exact orders before. That he shared this much now was interesting. Was he trying to prove that she could trust him? “I have no plans to do either. I intend to remain independent and remain focused on killing dragons.”

“Then I’ll take military command of the Dragonguard under you. That’s my duty.”

Duty. Orders. What was it he wasn’t saying? “And how do you feel about it?”

“My feelings don’t matter. Duty matters. The Empire, in the person of Legate Cipius, has decided to support the Dragonguard. I try to stay out of politics, but I understand the reasons I’ve been assigned here. The Dragonborn is a Nord legend, not an Imperial one. However, I know what you mean to the people of Skyrim. If you chose a side in the Stormcloak Rebellion, many Nords would follow you. Having you remain neutral, or even better lean toward the Empire, aids the Empire.”

“Are you a parrot? I understand the reasons of Legate Cipius. What about your own reasons?”

“I have my orders. It’s for the good of the Empire, and the dragons need to be killed.”

“Very well. It’s good to have a man so loyal in my service.” She doubted that she would ever crack his shell with mere questioning, and she simply didn’t have anyone else better suited for the position. “Now, tell me your impression of the fight with the dragon.”

“You need battlemages. Perhaps large numbers of ballistae would work as you suggested.” He shrugged. “Ballistae are mostly used by the navy, and I’ve always led infantry, but two ballistae were certainly not enough. Your current plan where you’re the bait, it works, mostly because you’re immune to fire. However, you’re not immune to tooth or claw. You’re brave, but there is too much luck involved.”

Daenerys nodded. “I know.” Someday her luck would run out, and she desperately needed battlemages, but they didn’t grow on trees. Also, even battlemages hadn’t hurt the dragon that attacked Helgen. “Do you have a better plan to offer?”

“Nothing beyond the obvious. The Empire would no doubt be willing to pledge you several battlemages if you merely agreed to swear an oath to serve the Empire.”

“Perhaps.” She knew Legate Cipius lacked the authority to lend her battlemages. “General Tullius has heard reports of me by now. If they make me an offer, I will consider it. Any other suggestions for working better with the men I have?”

“I’m sorry, but no. You used the men you had well. You took losses, but that happens in battle. Recruit more men, and I’ll train them for you. I would prefer you not to recruit any more by swearing in criminals. The Empire has tried penal legions before. They didn’t work.”

She noted how Gaius didn’t flat up and tell her not to do it. He advised her against it and cited an example. Just like Fultheim he was circumspect at telling her she was wrong. She could work with him. “Very well, let’s return. We have a long march yet to Ivarstead and few supplies. There is much to be done.”

Elolir and Jenassa missed the funerals because they were tracking down the deserters. When they returned with the corpses of Timo and Reeta, her scouts asked what should be done with them.

“Leave them at the side of the road. They don’t deserve a proper burial.” She made her words cold. They were traitors, deserters, horse thieves and had broken oath. They deserved death four times over. Yet, she still felt their blood on her hands. She had tried and failed to save them, but they’d run and left her with no choice. She looked up at the blood-red comet in the southern sky and wondered why.

.oOo.

Three days after killing the dragon Aela and Ull reported finding Imperial sentries hiding in the forest alongside the road ahead. On their own initiative, Aela and Ull had sneaked past them and located the Imperial camp. While Daenerys knew that Aela and Ull were exceptional at hiding and tracking in the wilderness, it probably helped that the Imperial sentries were stationed on platforms in the trees, and they were much more focused on watching the sky than the ground. The Imperial camp they spied upon completely neglected all Imperial doctrine on camp building. Instead of a camp laid out four-square with tents in proper formation surrounded by a trench and a wall of stakes, the camp sprawled out under the cover of trees. Add in that the sentries were watching the sky, and it told a story of a commander who was more concerned about being attacked by a dragon than the Stormcloaks. It also indicated a commander who could think for himself instead of just follow doctrine. Daenerys sent out Gaius Paulinus and Jon Battle-born to ride out and make contact with the Imperials. She loaned the Dragonguard banner to Jon to carry to make it clear that they were not Stormcloaks. A few hours later they returned with an Imperial escort, and Daenerys received an invitation to dine with their commander, Legate Fasendil.

She found it ironic that she had hosted a Stormcloak commander just a week ago and was now being invited to dine with the Imperials. She politely accepted. At the minimum she wanted to secure the right to enter the Rift without being attacked. She also hoped to persuade the Imperial commander to let her buy some of their supplies. While none of her people were starving, they were short on many basic supplies. Dinner with the commander would give her an opportunity to discuss that without approaching him as a beggar.

Sofija questioned her as they left the Dragonguard camp behind and walked the short distance down the road to the Imperial camp. “My liege, how do you know we’re not walking into a trap?”

Daenerys nodded her head approvingly. “Good question, Sofija. While invited guests are under the protection of their host, we’re counting on the honor of the legate. Dishonorable men have betrayed their guests before. I considered the possibility. However, you should consider who is in our party.” She gestured to Aela, Faralda, and Barbas. “With the exception of Camilla, we’re all very dangerous people. I think we could turn the tables on most traps and the Dragonguard isn’t camped that far away. Do you think they wouldn’t come running if they heard me Shout?”

“By the time the Dragonguard arrived, it could all be over.”

Daenerys laughed. Two werewolves, a mistress of destruction, an unkillable dog, and Sofija who was shaping herself into a formidable spellblade. “Perhaps, but I like our chances.”

Aela laughed. “I’d think they’d find they we’re no easy meat. Are we, shield-sister?”

“No, we are not,” agreed Daenerys. “Not to mention that you are a Companion. At least a third of the Empire’s forces are Nords. Word would spread that the Imperials cowardly attacked a Companion of Jorrvaskr and the Dragonborn. The last thing the Empire wants is us as martyrs for the cause of Skyrim’s independence.”

Sofija frowned and nodded. “So, I’m being paranoid?”

“You’re my housecarl. It’s your job to be paranoid on my behalf. It’s good to be wary of traps. Plan for them, but you can’t let opportunities pass you by because there is a small chance there is a trap.” Daenerys noticed that Camilla was looking around nervously now, and Daenerys decided to draw her into the conversation. “There is a big warning sign to watch out for. Camilla, what happens when someone offers you a deal too good to be true?”

Camilla laughed a bit nervously. “Every trader knows that one. If a deal is too good to be true, then it probably isn’t.”

“Exactly.” She gave Camilla an encouraging pat on the back. “That’s why you’re along. You may not be deadly in a fight, but you’re deadly at a negotiating table. We need those supplies, so keep your focus on that. I’ll try to work the conversation around to it.”

<If more mortals thought like her, my master would have a lot less fun.>, added Barbas.

.oOo.

As Daenerys expected upon hearing his name, Legate Fasendil was an Altmer. In appearance he was the ideal Altmer. His skin, hair and eyes were all of a matching pale gold. His nose, chin, and ears were pointed as if someone took human features and sharpened them on a grindstone. He didn’t have the bulky muscles of a Nord, but he was far from a soft merchant. He carried himself with the focused precision common to the legion and wore Imperial armor as if he was born to it. His manners were impeccable.

Despite being camped in the forest, he set a table that was better than any she’d had since the farewell feast Jarl Balgruuf gave her. The centerpiece was a full roast goose cooked to perfection, the skin was browned, but the breast remained lightly pink with the right amount of seasoning. Bread, fruit, and fresh vegetables complimented the meal with wine and tea to drink. The table was set with the same fussiness that Faralda had about serving tea, a place for everything and everything in its place.

Naturally, Faralda had no trouble adapting to the formal dinner even if she had retreated into silence. Daenerys put on her best manners and attempted to match the two mer. The level of formality that Altmer adored did not come naturally to her. Her childhood training in etiquette had been inconsistent. One week she would be in the home of a rich merchant or a prince and the next month she spent begging for scraps on the streets. Although Nords could be crass, she was far more inclined to the raw enjoyment with which they attacked their meals than the Altmer obsession with dining properly. Sofija and Camilla strove to emulate her, but Aela simply dug into her food. Barbas hadn't even been allowed in the tent.

Unsurprisingly, Legate Fasendil noticed her companion’s discomfort. “Please, enjoy your meal. Your efforts at manners are noted and appreciated, but I'm an Imperial officer first. Trust me, I've seen worse. Gods know that Kund has no manners.” He waved down the table to where his stout Nord quartermaster sat opposite Faralda.

Kund lifted a goblet and almost spilled some wine. “I've got manners. I didn't track mud into the tent, did I?”

“Not this time,” replied Fasendil.

Daenerys found the undercurrent of familiarity to their exchange interesting. Nords and mer didn't mix very well in her experience. Most Nords didn't distinguish between their grievances with the Aldmeri Dominion and mer in general. She had heard that Imperials, especially the Legion was different, but there was a difference between hearing about it and seeing it in action.

“So,” asked Fasendil. “How exactly did you managed to defeat a dragon? Your forces are half the size of mine and we were mauled the one time the dragon attacked our camp.”

Daenerys sipped her wine while she considered how much to say. She wasn't in favor of spreading her tactics around. Not that she expected dragons to hear rumors, but someone else might try to copy her tactics and fail. A dragon that survived an ambush would be more cautious in the future. However, she couldn't keep her men locked up. She had to give them leave sometimes and they would brag. Besides, some of Jarl Balgruuf's men had already seen her fight one dragon.

“How we overcame a dragon is different from how I would recommend that you fight a dragon. The Empire has more resources. For a camp this size, I’d recommend a minimum of six ballistae mounted on your perimeter. Cover the ballistae with pavilions so they have cover above but are open upon all sides. That way they look like tents to a dragon flying overhead. With six hidden ballistae, you would have a decent chance of getting a solid hit on a dragon. We had two.” Because that was all Jarl Balgruuf would permit her to build, but there was no use dreaming of what-ifs. “They both went up in flames and their crews with them. If you have any battlemages, they should use the same tactics. Hide until the dragon swoops low and then strike.”

“Unfortunately, we don't have a battlemage. We had a member of the Synod. She conjured a daedra when the dragon attacked. Which was worse than useless. When she died the daedra attacked us.”

“The other thing you need to know about fighting dragons is that they fly high overhead. At that height you lose detail. What dragons mostly notice large things like tents and wagons. They also notice movement. That's why the dragons hit caravans and giant encampments first. A caravan is very obvious from the air. So is a herd of mammoth. What you've done here, hiding in the trees. That's smart.”

“What about at night?” asked one of the Imperial underofficers. “You can't really hide a fire at night.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Dragons see better in daylight. At night they can see fires, but that just means that there are people below. Dragons aren't threatened by people. We're more like porcupines to them. More trouble to hunt than we're worth, and not much good meat on our bones. They much prefer horses, cattle, and sheep. More meat for less trouble.”

“If that’s so, why did the dragon attack us?” asked Fasendil.

“Hmm, good question. The dragons have been avoiding walled cities.” Probably because they consider them more trouble than they are worth. “They have attacked some villages…” But a camp laid out in military precision didn’t fit. There would be easier targets. Unless… “Were you drilling in formations or marching?”

“We were drilling that morning just before the attack,” agreed Fasendil.

“That would be the why. All those people moving in formation would be very visible to a dragon from above. A few people aren’t worth the trouble, but enough of them to be seen from the air and all clumped together? You looked as tasty as a herd of sheep.”

“Gods,” said Kund. “They really don’t think any more of us than we do of that goose we ate? Do they?” He emphasized his speech by waving his goblet at the remains of the goose on their table.

“No,” agreed Daenerys. “No, they don’t.”

The conversation flagged after that, so Daenerys changed the subject by asking about news from Riften and the Empire. Everyone at the table eagerly embraced the topic. After the meal was done Legate Fasendil asked her to stay and discuss matters with him. From his serious manner, this was clearly about business and not an attempt to get into her skirt, so she readily agreed. Of course, he still offered her a goblet of wine, which she accepted.

“Did you know that Gaius Paulinus gave me a sealed letter from Legate Quentin Cipius?”

Daenerys shrugged. “I did not, but that does not surprise me. Legate Cipius struck me as very astute.”

Fasendil nodded. “Not just astute but politically savvy. He’s of noble birth, minor house, third son, but that was still enough to get him a commission. He’s been earning his own way in the Legion. I served with him once. Outranked him then, but his star is on the rise. At least it was. I’m not entirely certain that General Tullius will approve of his actions.”

Daenerys frowned. “Oh, and why not?” She had thought it was a very clever political move. For the cost of only six men he’d created the impression that the Dragonguard was at least neutral in the Stormcloak Rebellion and maybe even leaning toward the Imperial side.

“Let me answer your question with a question. Is it true that you’re wearing an amulet of Talos right now?”

Daenerys shrugged. It was hardly a secret. “Beneath my clothes, but yes, I am.”

Fasendil shook his head. “It’s rather simple. While Cipius may have helped the Imperial perception in Skyrim by aiding you, the Thalmor are going to hate it. That won’t fall on you but on the Empire. General Tullius may answer to the Empire, but he always has Thalmor ‘advisors’ closeby. Not to mention that sooner or later you are going to run across some Thalmor Justicars, who will no doubt expect your Imperial forces to aid them in killing or capturing you.” Despite Fasendil’s impeccable manners, there was a faint sneer in his tone every time he mentioned the Thalmor.

Would Gaius Paulinus turn on her because the Thalmor asked? She would like to say no, but Gaius was loyal to the Empire first and her second. Which orders would he follow? “I hadn’t considered that scenario. I appreciate the warning.” While she had the feeling that Fasendil was sympathetic to the cause of the Dawnguard, she had to wonder if this meant she could expect no help from him.

Fasendil took a slow sip of his wine and studied her. “The Thalmor don’t scare you any more than dragons, do they?”

Daenerys laughed. “The Thalmor scare me a good bit less than dragons.”

“Really, I wonder who is the greater threat. I’m familiar with the Nord legend. Hard not to be. Most of my soldiers are Nords, and they won’t stop talking about you. However, this isn’t the first time in the history of Tamriel that there has been a stirring of dragons. I believe it more likely that the Thalmor are behind it than Alduin.”

“You really don’t like them, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve seen behind their smiling visage and what I saw was evil. I know you are new to these lands. Have you heard of the Night of Green Fire?”

Daenerys shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Back in ’42 I was stationed in Hammerfell. I was on leave in Sentinel, trying to track down some refugee relatives who had fled persecution in Alinor. To the Thalmor they weren’t refugees, they were dissidents. There was no warning, just an explosion of magic in the refugee quarter. Thalmor mages attacked the Altmer refugees, who resisted with magic of their own. I ran to the scene with other Legionaries who were stationed there, but the entire quarter was a smoking ruin by the time we arrived. Everyone was dead. Wholesale slaughter. Men, women, and children. The Dominion, not content with killing dissidents at home, came to Hammerfell to finish the job. We're supposedly at peace now. Still, I don’t trust them. I put in to be stationed here to keep an eye on the Thalmor. I have a feeling they're feeding this unrest in Skyrim.”

“I would say that most of the blame goes to Ulfric Stormcloak, but I believe you. When the Empire and Skyrim fight, it is the Thalmor who benefit. I’m certain they’re meddling in Skyrim. The Thalmor have an observer at the College of Winterhold, Ancano. When I left Winterhold an Alfiq spy started traveling with me. Our best guess was that he was assigned to Ancano to help spy at the College until Ancano reassigned him to follow me. Fultheim spotted him. According to Fultheim the Thalmor have been using Alfiq as spies at least as far back as the Great War.” Daenerys took a deep sip of her wine. Now was not the time to mourn Fultheim’s loss.

“Alfiq spies? And you didn’t bother to tell anyone?” A Nord would be yelling. Fasendil had more control, but his words were had more tension than the bowstring of a ballistae. “Cats go everywhere. No one ever pays attention to a stray cat. This is a security nightmare.”

Daenerys blinked. “I thought the Empire knew. Fultheim was a former Blade. He’s the one who informed me.”

“No, I didn’t know. If I did, I would have taken security precautions. Where is this Fultheim? I’d like to talk to him.”

Daenerys breathed in slowly. She would not snap at the legate. He didn’t know. “He died three days ago. Protecting me during the battle with the dragon Lok-Nos-Dov.” She managed to keep her tone matter of fact, but his loss still hurt.

“I’m sorry, Lady Targaryen. He obviously meant a great deal to you.”

Daenerys nodded. “He was a good man, a great warrior, and he had a way of bringing out the best in people.” She raised her glass. “Never again shall the world see his like.”

“To Fultheim,” toasted Fasendil. “While this news of Alfiq spies is distressing, it is still valuable.”

Daenerys nodded her agreement. For a time she sipped her wine and remembered Fultheim, but dwelling on memories didn’t help the present. “Dogs,” she finally said.

“Dogs? Ah, to counter the Alfiq. Yes, that’s probably a good idea. I suppose that’s the reason you keep that dog of yours close?”

“One of them, yes.” She heard a small woof from outside, but no snide remarks from Barbas.

“I’ll have to acquire some. While this was a valuable detour, we seem to have drifted from our subject. Now, my orders are to secure the pass against any possible incursion by the Stormcloaks. You’ve made my job easier. With the dragon gone I can move our encampment to the pass itself. Since you have helped me, what aid can I lend the Dragonguard?”

Daenerys smiled. “I’m so glad you asked.”


	18. Chapter 17

# Chapter 17

Middas, the 10th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Fasendil readily agreed to let the Dragonguard purchase a modest amount of supplies from his Quartermaster. He couldn’t offer her a siege engineer because he didn’t have one under his command. However, he did agree to match Legate Cipius and loan her six men on detached duty. One of them was an underofficer, Marcus Verres. The other five were all Nords, perhaps because Fasendil had called for volunteers. While this pushed her closer to the Empire politically, Daenerys couldn’t turn down experienced troops after her losses in the pass. If the Stormcloaks didn’t like it, they could lend her troops to balance the numbers. With their supplies refreshed the three-day journey to Ivarstead was much more pleasant. They encountered a few frostbite spiders and her scouts killed a bear, but otherwise the journey was uneventful.

Ivarstead stood on the western shore of Lake Geir and occupied a strategic location. The Rift was cut-off from the rest of Tamriel by mountains on all sides. Only a few passes and roads led in and out. Lake Geir was shallow and placid and connected by the Treva River to the slightly larger Lake Honrich. That provided an easy water route for trade goods from Riften to Ivarstead. Imperial roads led both north and west from Ivarstead connecting the Rift to the rest of Skyrim. That alone should have made Ivarstead a major trade hub. In addition to the trade routes, Ivarstead had natural deposits of both marble and clay, and it boasted a lumber mill. By all rights Ivarstead should have been a major trading city. However, her scouts reported that Ivarstead was little more than an overgrown town. It lacked a wall or any kind of fortification. There were a few sentries posted in the trees, but they were lookouts for dragon attacks and armed with horns instead of weapons. Her scouts also reported that several buildings were recently burned down.

Despite the reports from her scouts of burned buildings, Daenerys was taken aback by the welcome the Dragonguard received. The bridge leading to Ivarstead was decked with flowers and the entire town had turned out to meet her. Men and women lined the streets. Children ran around banging metal pans with spoons. Realizing what was happening, she dropped back to the end of the procession and mounted Nightwind. If Ivarstead was going to open its arms to her, she may as well give them the pageantry they desired. The cheering grew louder once she crossed the bridge. She waved at the people as she passed, and they all went down on their knees.

What she took to be the headman of the town was waiting at the crossroads of the town. He was a bald Nord who had the look of a warrior that had gone soft. His age was about right to be a veteran of the Great War. He stood atop a wagon along with a few other men and women who were probably the elders of the village. Her men parted going to either side of the road making way for her to ride between them. She stayed mounted so she could address the man standing in the cart on more equal footing.

He bowed deeply as she pulled her horse to a halt in front of him. “Lady Daenerys Targaryen, I am Wilhelm, the headman of Ivarstead. I’m also the Innkeep. Ivarstead welcomes the Dragonborn. We have heard of your defeat of the dragon, and we have prepared a feast for you and our men. I further declare that the 10th of Midyear will henceforth be a holiday in Ivarstead and we will call it Deliverance Day because on this day the Dragonborn who delivered us from the dragon came to Ivarstead.”

Daenerys bowed while remaining seated on her horse. “Thank you, Headman Wilhelm. I am honored to be among such good and honest people, but it wasn’t I alone who defeated the dragon. I founded the Dragonguard to defend Skyrim against the dragon scourge. We lost eight good men in the fight against the dragon, Lok-Nos-Dov. I ask but one thing of Ivarstead. You learn their names and their stories. When you celebrate this day in years to come, you don’t just speak my name, but the names of the eight men who died to deliver you from the dragon.”

The headman went down to one knee. “So shall it be, Lady Targaryen.”

.oOo.

Daenerys and her small council dined with the headman and the town elders. The elders were too in awe of her to ask many questions, so instead she asked them questions about the Greybeards, High Hrothgar, and Shroud Hearth Barrow which was located inside the town of Ivarstead. Despite the town being built at the base of the 7000 Steps leading to High Hrothgar, they knew nothing about the Greybeards that she hadn’t already heard. They had little to say about Shroud Hearth Barrow except that it was haunted. Wilhelm did share a story of how a mage named Wyndelius had ventured into the barrow about a year ago. That night they had heard screams. The mage was never seen alive again, but many claimed to have seen his ghost haunting the barrow.

Daenerys was able to satisfy her curiosity as to why Ivarstead was more of an overgrown village than a proper town. Not surprisingly the dragon was the most recent cause of the town’s problems. Lok-Nos-Dov had attacked many smaller settlements nearby and hit Ivarstead twice. A few months back it had raided their livestock, killed two families, but done little damage. Three weeks ago it had returned and attacked Ivarstead itself. Many people had died, and many more had fled to Riften. However, Ivarstead’s troubles went back further than the dragon, and the elders of Ivarstead were only too glad to talk about problems.

After listening to their complaints in no particular order, Daenerys thought she had a pretty good picture of the problems facing Ivarstead and the Rift and general. The main issue was simple geography. The Rift was surrounded by mountains on all sides. Only four trade roads led in or out, and they all passed through the steep mountains. Even with the Imperial roads, they required a lot of climbing, had poor forage for oxen and cattle, and were closed in winter due to snow. They were also plagued by bandits. Some trade still flowed along the roads, but most of it was in luxury goods which only attracted more bandits. While the isolation was bad enough, Riften guards were also corrupt. They were apt to demand fees and tariffs of questionable legality from traders or even civilians going about their business. They turned a blind eye to the Thieves’ Guild who also took their cut. The elders cynically informed her that it was cheaper to pay the protection money that the Thieves’ Guild demanded rather than have their goods and gold stolen. The only exception seemed to be the Black-Briar Meadery which somehow managed to be highly successful and profitable.

The local bard, Lynly Star-Sung, tried to sing The Dragonborn Comes, but she had even less talent than Sven at the Sleeping Giant Inn. After the second verse Jon Battle-born strode out, ripped the lute from her hands, and showed her how the song was meant to be sung. Daenerys had heard him play before, but hearing his song played badly apparently stirred his fire. He sang with a passion that had everyone listening spellbound. Daenerys found herself swept up as well, but she didn’t applaud as the song was written about her. While she admired Jon’s skill, applauding herself was just unseemly.

When the song was over the people started demanding that ‘the bard’ tell them about the dragon. Jon looked to her and waited for her nod of permission before telling the story. He proceeded to tell the story in dramatic fashion. Naturally, he cast her as the hero of the piece, saying how she stood bold and unafraid in the center of the road refusing to bow or even step aside for Loknosdov, the Dragon who Strikes from the Sky. However, she wasn’t the only hero. Perhaps taking his cue from her asking that Ivarstead remember the Dragonguard who had fallen, he spoke of the men who had died. He started with the ballistae crews. He explained that their orders were to take one shot at a distance and then dive to safety if the dragon was coming for them. However, none of them had left their posts. They had stood firm and waited until they had their shots lined up. Jon claimed they punched holes in the dragon’s wings. Daenerys hadn’t seen that happen, and she had been watching, but it was possible. Ballistae bolts traveled so fast they were hard to see. Regardless of the truth, it made their deaths less futile in the retelling. When it came to Fultheim Jon waxed poetic. Jon styled him as the Last of the Blades having come out from hiding in order to build the Dragonguard. He spoke of how Fultheim died protecting the Dragonborn while she regained her feet after being blasted back by dragonfire. Finally, he described her, Lady Daenerys Targaryen, the Unburnt, Dragonborn. Jon spoke of her like one of the Nord heroes out of their sagas, determined, steadfast, and unwavering. He made her failed trap sound like a brilliant plan. The people of Ivarstead listened raptly not even touching their food.

Daenerys herself felt swept up in the tale. This was just like back on Essos where they called her Mhysa and the Breaker of Chains. She could feel their adoration wrapping around her like golden chains. She wanted to embrace it, the way she had embraced the adoration of the freed slaves of Yunkai. She wanted to deny it. She hadn’t defeated the dragon alone. That was why she had emphasized the heroism of those who had died in that battle. The practical part of her wanted to use this. Fame could be a weapon against her enemies. No doubt some young men and women of Ivarstead would ask to join the Dragonborn.

When Jon’s tale was done, she bowed graciously as the people of Ivarstead chanted her name. She knew that if she asked it, the town would be hers. In another life she had craved this adoration. Viserys had claimed it was their due. He had told her how the people of Westeros cried out for their true rulers. That had been a lie. The people of Westeros hadn’t loved her, but the people of Ivarstead did. They shouted her name cheering their savior. A part of her bathed in the adoration, but it didn’t really mean anything. She knew she couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong here. She was too big for this small town. She also had a new destiny now and it wasn’t a throne. It was Alduin, the World-Eater.

.oOo.

Her priority the next morning was having her troops start construction of a ballista. Her men had built the two ballistae under the guidance of one of Jarl Balgruuf’s siege engineers and Daenerys hoped they would be able to recreate one on their own. Unfortunately, Fultheim had been the one who had overseen the construction. Daenerys wasn’t sure her men would be able to manage without him. However, they had salvaged the iron plates and fittings. Since Ivarstead had a lumber mill, she at least wanted to try.

Once construction of the ballistae was underway, she gathered her forces and assaulted Shroud Hearth Barrow. While the Dragonguard had grown in size, she limited the assault to twenty men. Even that many was overkill because in the narrow confines of a barrow it was often difficult to fight more than two abreast. They encountered a few traps and what at first appeared to be the ghost of the Dunmer mage Wyndelius. However, after they killed the ‘ghost’, he turned out to be an alchemist who was using a potion to pretend to be ghost just to keep everyone away. He had been living in the barrow ever since trying to reach the treasure. However, he had never been able to breach the Nord puzzle lock door because he didn’t have the dragon claw key. Ironically, the headman of the village, Wilhelm had the key the entire time. He hadn’t even known that it was a key. He gladly handed it over when Daenerys reported back to him that they were stuck at the puzzle lock door without the dragon claw key.

On their return to Shroud Heath Barrow, they found an extensive warren behind the puzzle lock door. Daenerys led her men through a familiar assortment of draugr and traps. The traps proved to be much more dangerous than the draugr. After the third time that she had to heal one of her men, she had Barbas take the lead. Despite his complaints no one besides Barbas was hurt exploring the remainder of the tomb. The final chamber had multiple sarcophagi and a draugr lord, but they didn’t leave their burial crypts until after she had a dozen of her men in the room. While the draugr lord was dangerous, he and the rest of the dragur were very much outnumbered, and they were all dispatched quickly.

At the back of the main chamber stood a Word Wall. Daenerys walked toward it hearing the chanting grow louder as a word began to glow. She breathed in realizing for the first time that she was Inhaling the Word the same as she did when she absorbed the Words of a dragon.

**Kaan**

The Word settled into her soul. **Kaan** was Nature, the raw untamed wild. **Kaan** was the wild beasts from mouse to lion. **Kaan** was the wild lands: the woods, the dells, and the plains, all the wild places untouched by man and mer. **Kaan** encompassed the wild untamed might of wind, rain and storm. Yet there was even more to the Word. **Kaan** wasn't just the existence of the wild. **Kaan** was the voice, the spirit, the personification of Nature. **Kaan** was the essence of nature given divine form. **Kaan** was the god, no, the goddess of nature. **Kaan** meant Kynareth or Kyne as the Nords called her. Daenerys exhaled and released the word as a Shout. “ **Kaan**!”

As **Kaan** shook the chamber, Daenerys scented the green smell of growing plants, she heard the rustle of beasts in the darkness, and she felt the stir of wind on her skin. Daenerys also sensed the attention of a presence that was both far away and yet all around. For a moment that immense weight of that presence was focused on her. Hardly daring to breathe Daenerys curtseyed low in respect for the goddess that she had unwittingly invoked. She heard what might have been the rustle of wind, but it felt like a nod of acknowledgment. Daenerys looked around. The Word was still active, and she was aware that even in this chamber of draugr and death, life was all around her. Bats rested on the ceiling, rodents hid in the room from noise and disruption of the fight, and fish swam in the water.

Her followers knelt all around her. Daenerys could barely feel their presence. Men and mer were not of nature, but Aela and Elolir both had a wildness to them that echoed from her invocation of Kyne. Daenerys considered chastising her followers. She could understand them kneeling after she Inhaled the dragons, but she didn't need them kneeling every time she Shouted a Word. However, **Kaan** , had a bit more to it than most Words. Even she had recognized the presence, or at least the attention, of a goddess. She couldn't fault her followers for kneeling when she had drawn the gaze of a goddess upon them all. She bowed her own head out of respect and waited as the presence slowly faded.

One the last lingering trace of the presence faded, Daenerys lifted her head. “Kyne, we thank you for your presence and your blessing this day.” There was no reply, not that she had really expected one, but she hadn't been certain. “Everyone, please rise. We still have much to do.”

.oOo.

The presence of a Word Wall in Shroud Hearth Barrow was fortuitous. In theory the Greybeards would test anyone who climbed the 7000 Steps to High Hrothgar to see if they had the talent to pursue the Way of the Voice. However, she doubted the Greybeards would appreciate her marching the entire Dragonguard up to their monastery. The Word Wall gave her the opportunity to test all her troops and see if any reacted to the word **Kaan**.

She organized the Dragonguard and had them all come down one at a time to visit the Word Wall. She made sure they didn’t know what was supposed to happen so none could fake their test. She spoke to each one after they visited the wall to see what reactions they had. It didn't surprise her that Sofija could once again feel a vibration or that Ull could hear a low chant. That was consistent with every Word Wall they had visited before. Faralda was clearly disappointed that she could feel nothing from the Word Wall, but Daenerys wasn't entirely surprised by that result. Daenerys didn't know if it was because Faralda had been touched by **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** when Mir-Mul-Nir breathed fire upon her outside Whiterun, or if Faralda simply had a knack for fire, or if it was something else entirely. Hopefully, the Greybeards would have answers. Her hunch about Jon Battle-born's knack for Dovhazul proved to be a good one as Jon could also hear a faint chant. That Olfina Grey-mane could also hear the chant was interesting. Did the potential to be a tongue run more strongly in nobles than commoners? Vignar Grey-mane could neither hear nor feel a thing, which didn't seem to bother him at all. No one else in the Dragonguard was able to hear the chant either, but two of them could feel a vibration: Steinarr, one of the men that Fultheim had recruited, and Bjalfi, one of the Nords that Fasendil had assigned to her on detached duty.

While she was down in the barrow watching all the Dragonguard file past, some of her followers had apparently gossiped about the Word Wall test to some of the people of Ivarstead. Daenerys was surprised when a good number of them suddenly wanted to visit the Word Wall as well. People were strange. If what she heard was true, the journey up the 7000 steps could be completed in less than a day from Ivarstead. These people had lived their entire lives at the base of the 7000 Steps with High Hrothgar only a day’s journey above them, but apparently few of them had ever made the journey. However, she showed up and suddenly half the town wanted to be tested to see if they might be able to learn the Way of the Voice. Most of them felt nothing, but three of them could feel a vibration.

.oOo.

Before climbing the 7000 Steps Daenerys saw Torvar, Jenassa, and Vignar Greymane off on a mission. Riften had an unsavory reputation and not just for the Thieves’ Guild. It was also known for bribery and corruption. She wanted to scout it out before the arrival of the Dragonguard. She hoped her scouts might be able to make contact with the Thieves’ Guild, but that wasn’t likely. However, even if they didn’t succeed in that mission, they should at least be able to learn about the recent events, gossip, and what Riften thought of the Dragonguard. She wanted to be as prepared as possible before she ventured into the snake’s den.

After her scouts were set off to Riften, they began the journey up the 7000 Steps. She had decided to limit her party only to those she suspected had some talent. Ull, Jon Battle-born, and Olfina Grey-mane because they could hear a chant. Sofija, Faralda, Steinarr, and Bjalfi because they could feel a vibration. Only one of the three townsfolk of Ivarstead who felt the vibration had chosen to come along, Karita.

Karita was a huntress and carried herself with sturdy confidence. Her hair was brown, and her skin was tanned. She had sharp features that hinted at some mer ancestry, but her ears were round. She had the sturdy frame of a Nord woman. She openly wore an amulet of Talos about her neck and claimed to make the pilgrimage up to High Hrothgar at least every few years. While the Greybeards cultivated some plants in the summer months, the people of Ivarstead often brought them gifts of preserved meats and fish. Daenerys was glad to have a guide along and had her walk beside her along the path.

The 7000 Steps was not a staircase that led straight up the mountain. The path wandered back and forth like a snake. Most of the path was a dirt trail with stone steps only appearing in places where the climb was steeper. The stones were well-worn and in some places. In other places the stairs were half-buried in dirt and debris. That really wasn’t all that surprising. High Hrothgar and the 7000 Steps had been built in the 1st Era which made them thousands of years old. Daenerys found the climb surprisingly easy. Probably because she had decided to wear leather instead of her skysteel armor. Actually, none of her party wore heavy armor. It wasn’t because of the weight of the armor. After several weeks of marching in heavy armor, she had grown accustomed to the weight. It was because the air would grow colder as they climbed. Any kind of heavy armor required padding, but metal grew scalding hot in summer and freezing cold in winter. Each environment required different padding under the armor. Rather than try to adjust to the change in temperature from the base of the mountain to the peak, they all simply dressed in leathers and carried heavy cloaks in their packs to don as the air cooled.

Despite her attempts to draw Karita into a conversation, the huntress had little to say. She did point out several shrines along the way and encouraged everyone to stop and meditate at them. Daenerys led by example by kneeling first at each shrine. She knew that she was in many ways a religious figure to the Nords. Even though she didn’t worship the Nine Divines, honoring this tradition was important. Especially when the Dragonguard believed she made a deal with Clavicus Vile for Barbas. It wouldn’t hurt her to make a show of being pious despite her own lack of faith.

Each shrine held a little inscription telling a story. The story started with dragons ruling the world, then came men who were subjugated by the dragons. The story was familiar. She had looked up Nord legends after being hailed as the Dragonborn by Aranea Ienith. However, the fourth shrine was interesting.

> Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man
> 
> Together they taught Men to use the Voice
> 
> Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue

Paar-Thur-Nax, Ambition-Overlord-Cruelty. That was a dragon name! She restrained herself from asking questions until they left the shrine and returned to climbing. “That was an interesting inscription. In the stories I’ve read, Kyne gave the Shout directly to men. I didn’t know that there was a dragon involved.”

Jon Battle-born was the one to answer. “That’s because it is not a very popular part of the story. People like their stories to be simple. Good versus evil. Men versus dragons. In the full story, some of the dragons rebelled against Alduin and sided with men. Paarthurnax being the most prominent. The oldest stories say he helped teach men to Shout.”

“So, what happened to Paar-Thur-Nax?”

“Died in the war, I suppose,” said Jon. “He’s only mentioned for his role in teaching men to Shout. After that he disappears from the story. I imagine that Alduin wasn’t too happy with him.”

“No, I don’t imagine he was.” Although Daenerys couldn’t help but remember her dreams of meeting an ancient and scarred dragon atop a mountain. As they climbed higher, she grew more and more certain that a dragon nested atop the Throat of the World, very old, very powerful, but was it Al-Du-In or Paar-Thur-Nax?

There were no surprises at the other shrines. They merely told the story that she already knew. Men banded together to defeat Al-Du-In, though they died by thousands. The Nords built an Empire based on swords and Shouting. Jurgen Windcaller convinced most of the Tongues to turn away from using the Way of the Voice in warfare and to instead pursue a quiet life of meditation. That the Voice should only be used in time of True Need. It gave her something to think about, besides the view of the Rift from atop the mountain. It was a clear day and she could see for leagues. Not that their journey was entirely peaceful. They were attacked by frostbite spiders and troll, but those were easily dispatched.

Daenerys could almost feel the anticipation rising with each step up the mountain. Once again she was following the red comet, trusting it as a sign from the gods that she was walking a destined path. However, this time she was acting on more than faith. The Greybeards were known to be the masters of the Thu'um, and Tiber Septim himself had once walked this path. Even before the comet appeared, she had already planned to visit High Hrothgar. Now she had more reasons: to master Shouting herself, to gain the support of Tongues, and to fulfill her promise to Faralda.

Her mentor was quiet during the climb. She hadn’t said much after being unable to feel the word **Kaan** in Shroud Hearth Barrow, but clearly it was a bad sign for Faralda’s dreams. Sofija had felt a vibration at every Word Wall. While her mentor maintained her outward calm, Daenerys knew her well enough to see past her facade. She knew her mentor was hurting inside, even if the only outward sign of her upset was the massive overkill when Faralda threw fire at the frostbite spider and the frost troll that dared to attack them.

Daenerys felt surprised when they spotted High Hrothgar. She had been picturing it at the summit of the mountain, although no one had told her that. While the monastery was far above Ivarstead, there was still a long way to go to the top of the mountain. She couldn’t even see the peak. It was hidden by clouds above them. In hindsight it made sense. The Greybeards grew food, so the monastery had to be located below the snowline. The Greybeards would also have to be close to the trees. They would need a source of lumber to survive the winters. It was only a few days shy of the summer solstice, but there was still a noticeable chill to thin air. She raised in Essos and had never grown used to being cold. Just the thought of winters on this mountain made her shiver.

High Hrothgar was a formidable building that looked more like a fortress than a monastery. It was built out of the same grey stone as the mountain. Instead of small bricks cemented in place, it was constructed from mammoth blocks too large to be lifted by a single man. This place had been built either with the assistance of magic or with many men and beasts working together. Given that it was the home of the Greybeards masters of the Thu’um, Daenerys would bet on magic. While she didn’t know any Shouts that would allow her to easily move heavy blocks of stone, that didn’t mean that such Shouts couldn’t exist. There were no guards standing outside, just normal-sized steps leading up to massive doors.

Everyone stood back as she walked up to the doors and deliberately knocked, once, twice, three times. No answer. She waited for a bit and then counted thirty more breaths. Still nothing. She tried the door. Despite being massive the door swung open easily on oiled hinges. She stepped inside.

Daenerys expected to see a great hall inside. Most Nord structures were built around a central great hall even those that didn’t fill them full of tables for feasting. The entry chamber of High Hrothgar was different. It rose three stories upward. Long and narrow hallways stretched out to their left and right leading to the wings of the building. In front of them, staircases led up to a second level, but there was no central firepit or fireplace. The entrance hall was just an oversized connecting space, and it was also messy. Pots were stacked up in a haphazard pile near the stairs. Boxes and bags lined the walls. It reminded her of some of the unused classrooms at the College of Winterhold where various bits of clutter had been tossed for lack of a place to put it. Torches were lit, so someone must be present, but it was eerily quiet.

From different entrances cloaked figures arrived. First one, then another, then a third and finally a fourth joined them. They walked at a languid pace, seemingly in no hurry, or perhaps that was the best they could manage because they were all old. They were also aptly named. All four of them had grey beards. They wore identical cloaks, of a dark grey richly embroidered in intricate patterns of silver thread. The four old men took up positions in a semicircle facing her. All Nords. No apprentices. No women. Was this all the Greybeards or only their leaders?

Daenerys stepped forward to meet them. “I am Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Dragonborn and I have come to High Hrothgar to learn the Way of the Voice.”

One of the Greybeards strode forward. The only thing that really distinguished him from the other three was that he tied his beard in a single knot. “So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of an age. We will see if you truly have the gift. Show us, Lady Targaryen. Let us taste of your Voice.”


	19. Chapter 18

# Chapter 18

Fredas, the 12th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

The Greybeard wanted to taste her Voice? Most of the Shouts she knew were dangerous, but a few would make a good demonstration. ****Shul**** would certainly be impressive. That Shout made her glow brightly and spread warmth all around her. However, there was another Word that would hold a special meaning to the Greybeards – provided it didn’t offend them. She didn’t’ think it would, not after what she read at the shrines along the way. It would honor their beliefs.

“Long ago dragons ruled Skyrim, but the men of old were bold and unafraid. They warred with the dragons, but men had no Voice, and the dragons shouted them down. Men died by the thousands. One goddess took pity on man.” She paused and bowed her head. This was not a Word to be used lightly. She took a deep breath and Shouted, “ ** **Kaan****!”

The Word of Kyne filled the entrance room with her presence. This time it came with the shriek of a sudden wind. The windows of High Hrothgar were open, and the wind gusted inside rattling shutters. The wind was clearly unnatural, blowing about the room, sending dust of years flying. Daenerys felt her hair blow in the breeze, and she smelled the strong scent of pine. She curtseyed deeply as she felt the weight of a presence upon her. As she did, she worried that she might have offended the goddess. Perhaps Kyne wouldn’t appreciate being invoked again for something so minor? However, if anything the presence felt amused. An old memory stirred in her mind. From when she’d been small and innocent, an old woman mussed her hair and laughed good-naturedly. She didn’t remember who the woman was, a servant maybe? A cook? A maid? Whoever the woman was, she had been kind. Maybe, she had lived at the house with the red door. As the impression faded, she realized she was still standing in a curtsey. She rose back to standing. The Greybeards all had their heads bowed in respect and her people were kneeling, so she kept her own head bowed and waited.

As the presence slowly faded the same Greybeard who challenged her to Shout spoke. “Truly, the Dragonborn has come. Welcome, Lady Targaryen, to High Hrothgar.” He walked forward a few steps and bowed at the waist. “I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Allow me to present my brothers: Master Borri, Master Wulfgar, and Master Einarth. Each man bowed as they were presented. With the cowls of their cloaks pulled low and their faces hidden by beards, the four looked very similar. Master Borri’s beard was a little fuller. Master Wulfgar was the youngest. His beard still had traces of brown. Master Einarth was the oldest judging by his fully white beard, the wrinkles on his face, and his slow stooped walk.

Daenerys curtseyed again, but not near as deeply. She respected the Greybeards, but they were just men. “It is an honor to meet you.” She rose back into standing. She thought it odd that the other three just nodded. “You said you speak for the Greybeards. Are the others forbidden to speak?”

“Not forbidden. It is just dangerous for them to speak, not to them, but to you and especially to your companions. My brothers have delved so deeply into the Way of the Voice that they have a hard time speaking normally any longer. If they spoke, it would be in the dragon tongue, Dovahzul, and if their focus slipped their words would roll like thunder.”

“Truly?” A part of her was amused. She could imagine joking with Missandei about old men who lacked control. However, Missandei was dead and gone. Judging by Arngeir, the Greybeards were too full of their own importance to receive such a joke well. No, this was not the time or the place for such jokes. “So, are the four of you the only ones?”

Arngeir glanced at the other three Greybeards.

Einarth nodded. Borri shrugged. Wulfgar didn’t react at all.

Arngeir frowned but nodded back at them before turning back to face her. “There is also our leader, but he is not here. He lives alone on the peak of the Throat of the World.”

That statement revealed some important facts. First, the Greybeard order was dying. Master Wulfgar looked to be the youngest and he had to be at least sixty. If they didn’t get new blood soon, their order would end with them. Second, they were all Nords and all male. Coincidence or prejudice? However, the most important thing revealed was that their master lived at the summit. She had suspected before with her dreams of speaking with a dragon atop a mountain. Feeling the presence of an ancient dragon atop the peak had built upon that suspicion. This confirmed it. “Paar-Thur-Nax.”

Arngeir bowed his head for a moment before raising it. “Paarthurnax is indeed our master. How did you know?” asked Arngeir. “Few have heard of him at all, and most of those who have heard believe him long dead.”

She gave him a slight smile. “If you had wanted it kept secret, maybe you shouldn’t have carved his name in stone on one of the shrines on the 7000 Steps. When will I speak with him?”

Master Arngeir laughed. “So young and so eager. You must complete the trials first. Then you can speak with our master. Now we have a question for you. Dragonborn, why have you come here?”

She wasn’t happy at the mention of trials. She had killed two dragons. Wasn’t that proof enough? She held her tongue, but a bit of her vexation leaked into her answer. “I have many reasons. I have come because the gods have led me here. On the night that I slew the dragon Mir-Mul-Nir the red comet first appeared in the sky, and it pointed to the Throat of the World. I have come to learn about the Way of the Voice, so I can end the threat of the dragons that plague Skyrim. I have brought with those that I believe have some talent to see if they can learn the way of the voice.”

Arngeir didn’t seem entirely pleased by her reply. “We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny. I am certain that the appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is not an accident. Your destiny is bound up with the return of the dragons. Just as certainly, the gods had a hand in the red comet. The sky is but a veil separating us from Aetherius. Perhaps the gods were sending you here, but we did not see that. When the red comet appeared in the sky, we saw it pointing south toward Cyrodiil. We can show you the Way, but not your destination.”

There was something about Arngeir's reply that bothered her. Why exactly had he asked if he didn’t want an answer? “And will you test those I have brought with me?”

Arngeir nodded, but he didn’t seem happy about it. “Yes, we test any who make the climb and wish to be tested. That is our duty.” He swept his gaze out across her followers. “However, I hope you do not expect them to learn with the ease that you do. A Dragonborn can learn easily what even the most gifted of us take years to achieve.”

Another yes, but no answer. It brought to her mind the nobles and warlocks of Qarth with their polite manners and gentle demurrals. They had acted so friendly with pretty dresses, fine wines, and other gifts. A feast every night, a dance, a play, no need to hurry. Always the pleasant faces, but never the ships she needed, never enough supplies to simply leave on her own, never what she needed. Did the Greybeards think her a naive child that they could lead her around with promises? “Let us not focus on what cannot be done, but what can be done. How can you aid me?”

“You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen.” There was the tone of a lecture in his voice like that of a parent to a child. “Without training, you have already taken the first steps towards projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your dragon blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger.”

Daenerys nodded her understanding. “I suspected as much. Yol-Toor-Shul fit together so well, and I heard an ice dragon Shout Fo-Krah-Diin even if it was from a distance.” Not to mention that both dragons she had Inhaled had names composed from three Words of Power.

“You already know Yol-Toor-Shul?” There was a note of disbelief in his question.

She smiled at having knocked Arngeir off his script. “I also suspect that Dah is the third word of a triple when combined with Fus and Ro.”

“Yes, Fus-Ro-Dah, is indeed a Shout. In fact, it is the first Shout we teach, and Fus is the Word we use to test for the gift. Since you already know Fus and Ro, we will have to use Dah for your next trial. That will be more painful and dangerous for you.”

“I see.” That meant they were going to Shout at her. Daenerys glanced around to meet Faralda's gaze. Her mentor gave her a slight smile in return. They had been so close! That had actually discussed having her repeatedly shout Yol at Faralda to try to teach her the Word, but had decided it was too dangerous. It also suggested Faralda could feel a vibration from Yol because she survived when Mir-Mul-Nir Shouted Yol-Toor-Shul at her. “We will need more room as well. I suggest that my companions watch from the top of the stairs.”

“That would be wise,” agreed Arngeir.

Slowly her people moved around and up the stairs. They were quiet and respectful as they went and didn’t approach any of the four Greybeards closely.

“Is the second trial? And, does it have to be Dah?” asked Daenerys. “I would rather learn Fo.” Three of the four dragons she had encountered so far had been fire dragons. Learning Fo-Krah-Diin, Frost-Cold-Freeze, seemed more useful than Fus-Ro-Dah.

“Yes, learning a Shout merely from hearing it once is the second trial.” Arngeir paused and sighed. “But, your second question reveals how much you still have to learn. We can guide you upon your way. Fus-Ro-Dah is the traditional first Shout, but not all Words are compatible. As you have learned Yol-Tor-Shul already, you are too attuned to fire. For you to even attempt Fo would be risky. Perhaps after your trials are done, if our master approves.”

This time he actually had a good reason and quickly shared it. Not that she was giving up on learning Fo-Krah-Diin. If it was opposed to ****Yol**** - ** **Tor**** - ** **Shul**** , then it would probably be the best Shout to use against fire dragons. She would revisit this later. She had the feeling that she was pushing them already, so she decided to ease up and follow their script for now. She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I did not know that. Thank you for your wisdom.”

“You are welcome, Dragonborn.” He nodded and smiled. “Please, prepare yourself.”

Daenerys smiled back at him. She could play along for now, and she was learning a Word out of it. She eyed the distance carefully. She knew roughly how far Fus-Ro could reach. If she was just outside that distance, she should be close enough to Fus-Ro-Dah to learn the word Dah and far enough away to survive. Deliberately she took two steps back to what she felt was the best distance. “I am ready.”

“You will want to face that way.” Arngeir sounded amused and gestured to his left. “Master Einarth will now teach you Dah, the third word of the Unrelenting Force Shout. Combine it with Fus and Ro to focus your Thu'um more sharply.”

Daenerys shifted to face the Master Einarth and again braced herself. Despite knowing that she was about to be smashed by a giant wave of force, she took comfort in the bit of humor in Arngeir's tone. Maybe she was reading too much into his manner. Maybe the Greybeards were simply intimidated by meeting a Dragonborn and trying to hide their nerves.

“ ** **Fus**** - ** **Ro**** - ** **Dah****!” shouted Einarth.

Even braced for impact, she was still knocked off her feet and sent flying as surly as having been slammed by the club of a giant. She flew backward skidding along the stone as the word of power rang in her head. ****Dah****. Push. To strike. To hit. To Impact. ****Fus**** was Force, but it could mean pull as easily as push, or spin, or many others. ****Dah**** gave it direction. The three Words fit together like links on a chain. Force with Balance and Push. Just like ****Yol**** - ** **Toor**** - ** **Shul**** , the three fit together and were more than the sum of their parts. She Pushed up from the floor, moving with Force, regaining Balance. She stood there feeling it all together as she took a deep breath and Shouted.

“ ** **Fus**** - ** **Ro**** - ** **Dah****!” Her words became Force that exploded out from her in perfect Balance and Pushed back. She had aimed up and away to avoid hurting anyone, but she hit a candelabra. It snapped free of the rope it hung on and went flying across the room. When it hit the far wall, it shattered into pieces.

“Your quick mastery of a new Thu'um is... astonishing. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of Dragonborn, but to see it for myself…” He shook his head in amazement. “You truly do have the gift. I envy you, Dragonborn. For us learning a Word of Power is only the first step. We must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Whereas you simply must experience the Word firsthand to know it. Now, there is one more trial.”

“Before we go on to the next trial, my followers have been patiently waiting.” She gestured to where they were watching from the stairs. “Would you test them before we go on to any more trials?”

Arngier frowned. “I suppose we could. May I ask why? We believe that Words of Power should not be used in war, only for True Needs. A war against dragonkind is still a war. You are Dragonborn. If the gods have set you on this path, I do not question it. What does bother me is that you seem to be seeking Tongues to use as weapons in your crusade. Is that indeed your plan? Or will they be staying here at High Hrothgar where we follow the Way of the Voice and only use Words of Power for True Needs?”

There was no good answer to that because it wasn’t that simple. She doubted her followers wanted to become monks, but she didn’t see them as mere weapons even if she was hoping that some could become Tongues. Her followers were already risking their lives. What she was doing was giving them better weapons so they could kill dragons without dying. Besides she didn’t see the virtue of sitting atop a mountain in isolation. What was the point of learning to use Words of Power if they didn’t actually use them to do anything? What True Needs were the Greybeards fulfilling? Meanwhile, the people of Skyrim suffered from dragons. They truly needed help.

Daenerys decided to sidestep the question entirely. “I should explain to you that we have visited Word Walls. All of those who I have brought here with me have at least felt a vibration. Some can even hear a faint chant. You have already told me that it takes years to learn to Shout for anyone who is not Dragonborn, if any wish to stay here, I will not stand in their way. Isn’t it your custom to test any who make the pilgrimage?”

“It is.” He didn’t seem happy to admit it. “I’ll have to admit that I am curious. Even though your intentions may be questionable. There are many Words of Power in Skyrim, carved in the Dragon tongue waiting to be found. They resonate with the power of the Thu’um. Some of them we know, but there are many we do not. I suspect that you are correct. It will be interesting to see…” He sighed deeply. “Very well. We can test them next.” He turned to face her followers. “I want you all to know that even if you have the gift, learning the Way of the Voice will take you years. It is a path of service and humility. It is not for everyone. Nor will the testing be painless. We will be testing you with Fus. You will be thrown back by it. Some have even died in the testing.”

Daenerys wasn’t surprised that none of her followers looked at all like they would back out. They had all signed up to fight dragons. Being thrown back violently might hurt, but the Nords revered Shouting. A little risk and some pain were a small price to pay to learn if they had the gift. She also looking forward to seeing who, if any, could learn to Shout.

Daenerys raised her voice. “Sofija, Ēlī Vokēdrie, Dragonslayer, come forward.”

Arngeir nodded respectfully as Sofija came forward and bowed deeply. “Seeker, step into the center of the ring and prepare yourself. Master Einarth will administer the test.”

Sofija nodded solemnly and moved to the indicated circle and braced herself much as Daenerys had done. “I am prepared.”

Master Einarth stepped forward and stopped so that Sofija would be right on the edge of his Shout. He paused for a second or two and then he Shouted, “ ** **Fus****!”

Rather than go tumbling Sofija was blown straight backward and fell on her back. She skidded on the stone floor for several feet before halting. She lay there for a few moments and then got back up to her feet.

“Tell me, child, what word did you hear?” asked Arngier.

“Fus,” replied Sofija.

Daenerys grimaced. What Sofija had said wasn’t even close to the true pronunciation. It lacked the overtones and undertones needed. It was wrong in the same way that singing badly offkey was wrong even if the singer got the words correct. So, that was all there was to the test. She had expected something more elaborate and felt immensely foolish for overlooked the obvious.

“Can I try again?” asked Sofija.

Arngeir frowned. “I advise against it, but custom dictates you have three chances.”

“Has anyone ever succeeded on a second or third try that failed on the first?” asked Daenerys.

“Supposedly,” admitted Arngeir. “But not in living memory.”

Daenerys looked at Sofija and gave her a nod. Living memory consisted of only four old men. Not exactly a large sample to base a conclusion on.

“Then I will try again!” insisted Sofija. She tried and failed. She tried a third time and failed again.

“A moment, Arngeir, then we will continue.” Daenerys took Sofija to the side. “Character is about how we face failure as much as how we face success. Others besides you will try and fail today. You are still the Dragonslayer and my chosen successor. Can you set an example for the others?”

“I understand,” agreed Sofija. “I am not a child to cry and pout because others have something that I do not. I have my magic and the gods have guided me to you.”

Daenerys gave her a nod of approval. “You are my first faithful, Sofija. Be proud.”

One by one she called the others up. It surprised her not at all that three of her followers could pronounce Fus better than the others: Ull, Jon Battle-born, and Olfina Grey-mane. They didn’t get it right, not on their first try, but she could hear a shadow of the true Word. Those who could only feel the vibration: Steinarr, Bjalfi, and Karita failed even with three tries. After each testing she spoke with the candidate private, giving them either quiet words of congratulations or consolation. Finally, only Faralda was left.

“Faralda, mentor and friend, it is time.” Daenerys turned to Arngeir. “I want you to test her with Yol. Faralada is a Mistress of Destruction and is gifted with fire. She can ward herself against the Shout.”

Arngeir frowned. “Some can manage a single Word. That doesn’t make them a Tongue. We don’t usually accept that sort. Also, casting spells requires focus. Her mind needs to be open.” He looked over to his fellow Greybeards. They began having a silent conversation that consisted of gestures.

Daenerys wasn't sure if she believed that a ward would interfere. Faralda had shielded when Mir-Mul-Nir breathed fire on her. That was probably why she felt ****Yol**** at the Word Wall of Dustman’s Cairn.

The Greybeards had apparently made some decision and Arngeir turned back to her. “It’s unusual, but as you are the Dragonborn. We’ll test the mer as you say.”

Faralda gave Daenerys a slight nod and strode into the circle with her head high. She turned to face Master Einarth and brought up a Ward.

Master Einarth shouted, “ ** **Yol****!” and breathed a jet of flame at Faralda.

Faralda stood steady with her ward in front of her as the fire splashed off it. When the flames died down, Faralda very deliberately said, “Yol.”

Daenerys heard none of the resonance with the deeper meaning of Yol, but she couldn't bear to say it to Faralda.

Apparently, she didn’t have to say a word. Faralda merely looked at her and nodded. “I see. I will try again.”

Einarth gathered his breath and Shouted.

Faralda shielded, tried again, and failed again. She tried a third time and failed yet again. “Very well, that is it, then. I cannot be taught at all.”

Arngeir shook his head. “Can a deaf child learn to talk when she cannot hear a sound?”

The youngest Greybeard, Master Wulfgar, raised up a single finger. Then he cupped a hand to his ear as if straining to hear something.

Arngeir shook his head and looked angry. “That’s just a legend. We don’t even know if it is true. Besides, she would have to finish her trials first.”

Master Wulfgar crossed his arms and just looked back.

“What is just a legend?” asked Daenerys.

“When your Voice can open the path, you will know you are ready,” replied Arngeir cryptically.

“Is that a riddle? For all that you claim to follow the Way of the Voice instead of the way of the gods, you answer like a priest. What is it that Master Wulfgar is trying to say?”

Arngeir glanced at the other Greybeards. Master Wulfgar still had his arms crossed. Master Einarth nodded his head. Master Borri just watched. Arngeir’s face wasn't easy to read hidden by a beard and cowl, but he clearly wasn’t pleased. “Master Wulfgar is suggesting that there may be a way, but it is a tale from the age of legends that might not even be true.”

Daenerys laughed. “Well then, it must be Tirdas. Tell me about this legend.”

Arngeir sighed. “Very well, it is a tale of Jurgen the Calm who founded our order. When he was known as Jurgen Windcaller, he fought in the War of Succession. This was after the fall of the dragons when Nord Tongues used their Shouts in war against the Dwemer, the Chimer, and even each other. With the power of the Thu'um the Nords usually carried the day. However, it was because of the crushing defeat of the Nord army at the battle of Red Mountain that Jurgen had his revelation. He realized that the gods were punishing us for our arrogant and blasphemous misuse of the Thu'um. It was Jurgen the Calm who founded our order and taught us that the Way of the Voice should only be used for True Needs.”

Daenerys waited a moment for Arngeir to continue, but he did not. “I already knew this story. I even read it again today inscribed upon the shrines. “Obviously, you have misgivings, but will you tell me the rest? Or should I drag out paper and quill and hand them to Master Borri?”

Arngeir looked over at Borri again who met his gaze impassively. “Very well. The legend that Borri is referring to is about the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. It might help, but it has been lost for ages. Not even Tiber Septim could find it.”

“A horn? To make Shouts louder?!” She could imagine using it for Shouting, amplifying her Shouts to devasting effect. There were stories of Nords shouting down the walls of cities. Was this how it was done?

“Not the kind of horn you blow,” clarified Arngeir. “The kind that old folk hold to their ear to hear better.”

“Oh,” so not an item to let her shout down the walls of cities, but powerful in its own way. In fact, that kind of horn would be better. If the horn would let even Faralda learn Words of Power, then it would work for the others who could just feel a vibration. Perhaps they all could become Tongues! That would change not only her war against the dragons, but everything… The red comet had led her here, but the Greybeards saw it pointing to Cyrodiil. Was that accident or the gods pointing her to the throne? Or another interpretation, first Skyrim, then the Empire. No! She pushed thoughts of glory and thrones from her head. She would not chase another Iron Throne. If it lay in her future, she would deal with it then. For now her war was with the dragons and Alduin, and the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller could be the key to winning the war.

She smiled at Arngeir. “So, tell me, where would I look for this legendary horn?”


	20. Chapter 19

#  Chapter 19

Turdas, the 18th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Of course, finding the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller couldn’t be simple. No, she had to pass the third and final trial first. She had to climb the Throat of the World alone and receive the blessing of Paarthrunax. Only then would they reveal what they knew about the last resting place of the horn. Arngeir warned that it was a dangerous climb. He told her to pack food for two weeks because if she didn’t return within two weeks, she wouldn’t return at all. Only dragonborn and the most headstrong Greybeard novitiates attempted the ascent. Of the Greybeards who made the attempt, half died. Two out-of-three dragonborn survived the ascent, which was hardly encouraging.

Although there were still several hours of daylight remaining, Daenerys decided that it would be best to spend the rest of the day preparing. She would begin her ascent the next morning once she was fully rested. After exchanging looks with his fellow Greybeards, Arngeir offered to let her and her party stay in High Hrothgar. Daenerys gladly accepted. The food they offered was meager: coarse bread, a vegetable soup, and small servings of meat from the elk that Ull had killed on their way up the mountain. The chairs were hard uncomfortable stone, and conversation was sparse. She knew the Greybeards were monks, but she simply didn't understand the ascetic life. What was the point of mastering the Thu'um when they barely scraped out a living on top of a mountain? She could appreciate that Words of Power should be used to a better purpose than mere destruction, but the Greybeards didn't appear to actually use the Thu'um for anything at all.

Once the awkward meal was done, Daenerys spent the next few hours planning and preparing. Ull and Karita both had some experience in climbing, and Ull had scaled a mountain once just to prove to himself that he could do it. Both advised her to dress in layers because overheating and sweating through her clothes in cold weather could be almost as bad as not bundling up enough. As it wouldn’t be practical to carry wood for a fire, she packed dried meats, nuts, and grains for rations. Ull recommended she carry an axe or a pick instead of her mace because either could be used to gain a better grip on slippery ice. Karita recommended a stamina potion or two in case her strength started to fade during a long climb.

Ull agreed with Karita, about the potions but took it further. “Never start a climb that you are not fully prepared to finish. You cannot stop halfway, and climbing down is sometimes worse than climbing up. You should also always search around before starting any difficult climb. I once spent hours scaling a cliff only to discover there was an easy path had I just scouted a little bit further.

Daenerys soaked up all their advice trying to memorize it. After riding atop her dragons, she wasn’t terrified of heights. It was just common sense that scaling a mountain was dangerous, and she should listen to those with experience. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be as bad as Ull made it out to be. Arngeir had revealed that there was a path at least partway up the mountain. He didn’t know if the path went all the way up or not. The Greybeards considered the entire mountain above High Hrothgar to be sacred to Kyne. Those that returned from the ascent spoke of their meeting with Paar-Thur-Nax, and very little about their climb.

She left early the next morning after a light breakfast. Everyone came to see her off. Her followers all clustered around her and wished her good luck and a safe journey. She shook hands with most of them and traded hugs with Sofija and Faralda. All four Greybeards watched looking solemn and faintly disapproving of the scene. Was hugging or saying goodbye against their religion, too? She had to keep some distance from her rank and file followers, but she was not going to isolate herself from her closest advisors like she had done in Westeros. That had undoubtedly contributed to her sliding into madness.

Arngeir strode forward. “Dragonborn, may Kyne watch over you during your trial upon her sacred mountain.”

Right, and how to respond to that? She touched her chest where her amulet of Talos rested. “May it be so, and may Talos guide me as I walk in the footsteps of Tiber Septim.”

“May it be so,” agreed Arngeir. He bowed and all the Greybeards did with him.

Daenerys curtseyed again and then went through the gate that marked the boundary of High Hrothgar and followed the path that climbed gently up the mountain. To her surprise Barbas came running after her. “Barbas, you know that I’m supposed to climb alone, don’t you?”

Barbas snorted. <So what? They think I’m just a dog.>

Truth be told she wasn’t that upset about having company, and she doubted that Barbas would be able to climb all the way to the top anyway. Still, it seemed risky. “And is it safe for you to be here? This is Kyne’s sacred mountain and you are a part of Clavicus Vile?>

<Danger?> Barbas made the choking sound he used for laughter. <We had a deal. I stick by you and your buddies until Alduin’s done. Kyne is small change compared to Alduin. She’s got too much to watch over to pay attention unless you get all Shouty and call down her attention. Don’t believe me? Watch this.> Barbas hiked his leg and pissed on a rock. <See, nothing happened. It’s just rocks and snow.>

Daenerys bent down and scratched his ears. “Well, aren’t you a brave boy? I’m glad to have you Barbas, for as long as you can keep up.”

<Yeah, paws are good for digging, but not climbing. Still, I’ll stick around as long as I can. Although if you want to find a comfy cave where we can hang out for a few days, then we come back down and lie your ass off about how you reached the summit, that would be fine by me.>

Daenerys laughed. “I think Paar-Thur-Nax might notice.”

<Yeah, well, I tried.>

A short distance further the path came to a halt at what was obviously a quarry. Judging by the blocks still lying about this had been where the stone had come from to build High Hrothgar. Unlike most quarries that went down into a pit, this quarry cut into the mountain. A series of terraced levels created a rough stairway. It would have been more convenient if the steps didn’t come up to her waist. She had to scramble over them, but it was still an easy climb. Barbas had no trouble at all, he just leapt from one stone block to the next. At the top of the tiered slope, she found the path continued on up the mountain at a steeper grade than before.

They continued onward for several more hours. Barbas didn’t share stories about Clavicus Vile as was his wont. He just walked beside her. Even though he didn’t say anything, she appreciated his company. The trail was barren just rocks and ice. The view was impressive. She could see for leagues. The world looked very peaceful up here. About midmorning the sun slid behind the perpetual cloud that hid the peak. It was notably cooler without the sun, but she was warm enough from the climb. Not too much later the trail suddenly ended at a ledge overlooking a lethal drop. While the trail ended, the path continued.

On the rock wall beside her, someone had carved a series of hand-sized holes in the cliff wall. The way onward led straight up using those handholds as a ladder. She couldn’t even tell how far up it went because about ten or twelve stories overhead the cliff face was hidden by clouds. It was a little daunting to know that she had to scale that cliff with no idea where it ended. Ull’s advice about never starting a climb you couldn’t finish seemed to very much apply here. On the other hand, the wall wasn’t straight up. It had a little bit of a slant to it, maybe a seventy-degree angle. That meant she could lean on the wall and rest. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be any worse than climbing a very long ladder. She had the blessing of Hircine that granted her strength even in human form. She had also grown stronger both physically and magically after Inhaling Lok-Nos-Dov. While she couldn’t see the top, someone had obviously not only completed the climb but made the holes as well. If they could do that, then she could certainly reach the top.

She sat down and opened her pack. This looked like a good time to stop, rest, and eat. She pulled out some of the food she had in her pack. She didn’t really have extra, but she gave Barbas a small bite of dried meat. “Thank you for coming with me, Barbas, but it looks like I’m on my own from here. You’ll watch out for everyone while I’m gone? Make sure the Greybeards don’t give them trouble?”

<You think those dried-up old blowhards can cause trouble?>

“Don’t underestimate them Barbas. They have power, and Arngier at least does not approve of my plan to train Tongues to fight dragons.”

<Yeah, he has a stick up his ass. They all have sticks up their asses, but his is the biggest, and it’s shoved in deep. Hey, you know what you should have done?>

Daenerys sensed a joke, but decided to play along. “No, what should I have done?”

<You should have gotten them laid. Four old men living together on top of a mountain that is closed for travel eight months out of the year? I bet they haven’t gotten any in decades. You could have found a whore in Ivarstead and paid her well to come up and clean their pipes.>

Daenerys stared at Barbas for a moment before she broke out laughing. “Gods, Barbas… that’s so funny, but so true. They aren’t really living are they?” She laughed a bit more trying to picture the scene. Men could be simple creatures at times. Getting them laid probably would help their attitudes. With a sigh she took another sip of water then sealed up her canteen. Carefully she stowed everything away in her backpack and made sure it was sealed good. “Barbas, you’re a good boy. Go look after my people for me. I’ve got a mountain to climb.”

Barbas’s joke kept her smiling for the first part of her climb. As did her wondering about the change in his attitude. He had been more supportive of late, and he hadn’t mentioned Clavicus Vile once this morning. Did that mean that her somewhat vague plan to win Barbas’s allegiance could actually work? It still seemed a longshot, but there seemed to be cause for hope.

As she climbed higher into the clouds, visibility dropped until she could just see a little around her. She felt like she was cut off from everything. Just her and this wall. The handholds were deep and easy to use. She was careful to keep a good grip at all times, but her progress was steady. Right hand. Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Repeat. Her back started to ache a bit but still she climbed. The grey fog that surrounded her was cold and moist, but not wet. Right hand. Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. On she climbed. Maybe she should have counted the number of steps. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. Who had made these holes and how? Had someone chiseled the holes? Or had it been magic? Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. Her arms started to ache, but still she climbed. There was no way to back up. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. If Tiber Septim made this climb she could, too. Right hand. Right Foot. Left Hand… No hole. Just a flat space. She pulled herself up and found that she was on a ledge.

Heights normally didn’t bother her. They hadn’t when she was climbing, but now she found herself lying on a ledge not much larger than she was. Just enough room for her to lie flat on her stomach. A mere hand’s span past her arm’s reach was a drop to death. She lay there quietly for a moment panting and her limbs started to ache. Why they hurt more now that she was resting, she didn’t know, but she knew that she couldn’t stay here. If she tried to sleep here, and she rolled over, she’d die. There was a way up. More holes in the wall led up again. Moving carefully, she removed her backpack. She had two stamina potions in her beltpouch, but they could stay in her beltpouch for now. She might need them to finish the climb. She removed the small wooden chest, opened it, and took out a stamina potion from the padded case. She returned the chest to her pack and sealed it.

She uncorked the stamina potion and drank it down. Stamina potions weren’t of much use in the heat of combat. No enemy would stop trying to kill you and let you drink one. However, they were good for washing away hours of exhaustion and making you refreshed enough to go on. They were a very popular potion. Most soldiers carried one, because they might have to do battle after a long day of marching. Farmers even used them at harvest time. She had never used one before. It felt like drinking cold water. Suddenly warmth rushed through her limbs, and she felt ready to continue. She had two more stamina potions in her beltpouch, just in case, but she needed to get moving. She moved over to where the handholds continued and resumed her ascent. 

This time she didn’t have far to climb before she reached another ledge. It led to another set of handholds and more climbing. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. A wind started blowing. At first it just rustled her hair, but then it started pelting her with little droplets. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. The light drizzle made her gloves slick, but she kept climbing. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. The handholds slowly shifted. They weren’t quite vertical any longer. They were drifting a little bit to the left with each step. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. She could make out on her right a protrusion. The cliff wall jutted outward there. That must be why the handholds had drifted left. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. Her arms and legs started to feel heavy again. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. Was it getting dark? How long had it been since the last ledge? Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. Maybe she should try to get a stamina potion from her beltpouch. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. She wasn’t sure she could manage to get it out and drink it while hanging on like this. Right hand. Right Foot. Left hand. Left foot. But if she didn’t do something soon. Right hand… A ledge!

Feeling exhausted she pulled herself up and onto the ledge. This ledge was larger and led into a cave. She crawled into the cave, blocked the entrance with her backpack. She removed her bedroll and slipped into it. Almost immediately she fell asleep.

Daenerys awoke cold, wet, hungry, and sore. What she had taken for a cave the previous day turned out to be a narrow ravine since she could see an overcast sky above. A quick bit of healing cured the soreness, and a cold breakfast satisfied her hunger. Having no other way to go she followed the ravine. She noted a few places that might have been climbable, but she decided to follow the path laid out for her first. She was glad she did. As she approached the end of the ravine, she found a shrine almost identical to the shrines she encountered on the 7000 Steps. On the shrine was carved a single word in Dovahzul, **Lok**.

She already knew **Lok**. It meant Sky. **Lok** carried with it connotations of freedom, wind, and flight. She had learned it when she Inhaled Lok-Nos-Dov. When she had tried Shouting **Lok** in the days following the battle, she had the feeling that the Word was doing something, but she couldn’t tell what. The Word aimed at the sky, and she hadn’t noticed anything change. She decided that she may as well try the Word again. She took a deep breath and Shouted, “ **Lok**!” The fog that had been surrounding her suddenly cleared away. The sun shone down, and she was able to see a great distance, and what a sight there was to see.

The ravine she was standing at the top of grew wider and expanded into a round valley that was shaped somewhat like a gourd. The ravine opened up on the butt end of the gourd on the west and narrowed down into a neck at the other end of the valley that rose back up the mountain. A low stone ridge enclosed the south side and past that ridge were only clouds. Enormous pine trees lined the edges of the valley, but the center of the valley was a vast meadow. She could see a herd of mammoth grazing, although they looked tiny from this distance. A stream flowed down from the other end of the valley and into a small lake. Another stream drained the lake and wandered down to a gap in the south wall where it plunged off the cliff. In the center of the valley stood a large perfectly circular ring of stones. As she gawked at the scenery her Shout faded, and fog rolled back in over her. As the fog rolled in she noticed that it only covered her. The valley was free of clouds.

While she could have stubbornly tried to scale the mountain, the path ahead was obvious. Down the ravine and through the valley. Stop at the circle of stone, then follow the far end of the valley that gently rose upwards toward the peak. Daenerys decided to follow the path that was so clearly laid out and walked down the ravine. The clouds pulled back on their own not much further, and the sun shone down upon her. It was almost as if the shrine with **Lok** engraved on it was a boundary stone for the clouds. The clouds certainly seemed to act that way. The tall pines were alive with life as she walked down the ravine. She could hear squirrels running about and heard rustling sounds as nervous forest creatures took shelter at the approach of an encroaching human.

When she reached the valley floor and stepped out into the meadow, she had a hard time believing the difference between today and the previous climb up a sheer cliff. There was a wildness about this valley. She could easily believe that no mer or man had trod here in centuries. Clearly this was one of Kyne’s sacred places. She could still see the vast herd of mammoth, and two herds of elk grazing the meadow as well. All the creatures were skittish and kept an eye upon her, but not as skittish as wild beasts should be. Probably because they had never been hunted by men. This was Kyne’s sacred mountain after all. There was clearly some powerful magic in place because clouds hovered at the top of the cliffs framing the valley, yet the sun shined clearly down on the valley. Even though she could have easily killed an elk, she didn’t think it would be wise to hunt in Kyne’s valley. So, she simply walked down to the stone ring enjoying the pastoral setting. She certainly wasn’t going to complain that part of her journey was pleasant.

As she reached the lake, she found the shores surrounded by gently chiming and slightly glowing plants, Nirnroot. She had seen the plant before and was aware that it was rare and much sought after by alchemists although she wasn’t sure for what purpose. As she continued to the stone ring she came upon a patch of newly grown grass over an old burn. In the center of the burn was a skeleton of a mammoth. That gave her the answer to a question she had never considered, what did Paar-Thur-Nax eat? Apparently, Kyne didn’t object to the dragon hunting this valley.

The stone ring was impressive. Its stones stood three times her height, a perfect circle of standing stones with equally massive stones topping it. She cautiously approached the center and found another shrine. This time she heard a chant as she approached the shrine. It bore a single Word.

**Vah**

**Vah** was Spring. **Vah** was new life and had overtones of fertility. **Vah** was winter’s end and new beginnings. The word simmered with potential inside her, and she let it free with a Shout, “ **Vah**!”

**Vah** smelled green. She could feel the plants and life around her react and celebrate. The Word pulsed with the Word on the shrine and ring of stones and seemed to flow out over the entire valley. She didn’t understand how it was done, and she felt it was more than just the inscription of Vah upon the wall, but this was the explanation for Kyne’s valley. Here the word **Vah** held domain over a land of eternal spring. Belief in the gods did not come easily to her, but she was not a fool to ignore their presence when it smacked her in the face.

She knelt on the grass in the middle of the stone ring. She didn’t close her eyes. Kyne was the goddess of nature. Surely, she should be looking at her valley and appreciating its beauty. “Kyne, are you listening? I don’t really know how to pray. I never learned how. The gods of my homeland, of Essos, they weren’t that nice. The gods of Westeros were never really my gods. What few prayers I tried were never answered, so I gave up and learned to do for myself. So, instead of praying, I’ll just talk with you awhile.

“Your valley is really beautiful. I promise I won’t reveal it exists. Men would spoil its wildness and its peace. Thank you for this respite on my journey. I know it won’t last and the way will be harder. I don’t think the Greybeards approve of my plan to train up Tongues to help fight dragons. I think you would though. That’s why you spoke to Paar-Thur-Nax and convinced him to teach men how to Shout. At least I hope you do. It isn’t like I have much choice. Talos sent a priest to tell me the mission. Save the Empire. Save Tamriel. Save Nirn.”

She paused and inhaled deeply. The air felt fresh and she could smell flowers. “Not asking much are you? I think the comet was a little over the top, but you got my attention, and the attention of everyone else, too. I guess that was the point.” What else was there to say? “Are you trying to tell me something, Kyne? Your mountain, your Greybeards, and Paar-Thur-Nax at the top of the mountain. All of those point back to you. If you are, I’m not getting it. I’ll just follow the obvious path and keep climbing.

“Grandfather warned me about the Daedra. I haven’t done so well with them. I took Hircine’s offer, bargained with Clavicus Vile, and I’m going to take Azura’s Star back to her shrine. I won’t apologize for Azura. I’m going to save Grandfather’s soul... and having a powerful enchantress on my side is too important to ignore. Besides, I already crossed that bridge when I took the power Hircine offered. I know where my soul is going.” She sighed. “I don’t regret it. I did awful things for the wrong reasons in my past life. I wanted to break the wheel. Instead, I became it. I know I’m never going to Sovngarde. That’s fine. I just want to balance the scales.

“Sorry. I’m just not good at praying. Thanks for listening. I think I’d better get back to climbing the mountain now. It’s a long way to the top.” She stood up and resumed her journey.

She hadn’t left the stone circle when a creature emerged from behind one of the monoliths. It looked something like a skeleton made of wood with a female figure. It gave off a green glow. Butterflies and leaves swirled around it. She had heard this creature described, a spriggan. They were known to become violent with people who intruded upon them. This one was just watching her. Daenerys watched it back and then curtseyed.

The spriggan gave a slight nod of her head, but she didn’t otherwise move.

Carefully watching it, Daenerys walked away from it and the stone ring. The spriggan turned to watch her leave but made no hostile actions. As she left the stone ring behind, she wondered if the spriggan was supposed to be a sign from Kyne, or if the creature was just the guardian of the ring.

The rest of the journey through Kyne’s valley was peaceful. She avoided the wildlife and it avoided her. She spotted some other burn marks confirming that Paar-Thur-Nax used the valley as his personal hunting ground, but she didn’t feel it wise to emulate him. At the end of the valley, she found another shrine inscribed with the word **Koor** , meaning Summer.

The three words **Lok** - **Vah** - **Koor** , Sky-Spring-Summer, fit together very well and formed a triple. Shouting it didn’t do much in the valley, but it was very useful as she left the valley behind. **Lok** - **Vah** - **Koor** created warm clear skies in a large area around her, driving away the cold damp fog and even stilling the freezing winds. When she used all three together it lasted for several minutes. Long enough for her magicka to recover so she could Shout again. This allowed her to keep climbing in her own perpetual springtime despite the bitter cold that returned with a vengeance once she left the valley. While there was no longer a clear path to guide her, there were no cliffs blocking her path either. The rest of the day passed in a long hike up a steep but climbable slope. Sometimes she used her pick to help pull herself up, but she much preferred this scramble to the nervewracking climb of the first day.

She made a cold camp for the night on a piece of level ground. There wasn’t anything else she could do. Even with the tent and her bedroll it was still bitterly cold, and she slept poorly. Dawn didn’t really break. The fog that surrounded her just grew brighter. When she Shouted **Lok** - **Vah** - **Koor** , the clouds rolled away and revealed that the sun had already been up for some while. Her third day started with a steep but steady climb. Late in the morning she finally broke through the cloud cover and there was still a lot of mountain above her. She briefly stopped Shouting as she no longer had to push away the clouds to see, but it didn’t take long before she was shivering in the freezing winds that swept the top of the mountain. She resumed Shouting every few minutes to still the wind. Paar-Thur-Nax would obviously have plenty of warning of her journey.

As she continued, Ull’s warning about choosing a path became more important. Sometimes she had to circle around a cliff to find a scalable slope. More and more often she used her pick to steady her as she climbed up ice-covered rocks. Each slope was an obstacle, but while her progress was sometimes slow, it was at least steady. The summit no longer seemed impossibly distant, but something that she would reach in a day or two. Then she was faced with a wall of solid ice.

The wall was near vertical. Slightly less in some places, but not enough to matter. She had thought the path she was on led around this wall, but she’d been mistaken. She would have to backtrack and find another way, even though it meant losing many hours of climbing. There was no way she could climb the ice wall. Not with just a pick. Maybe if she’d brought a hammer and spikes, she could have made herself a path, but she didn’t have a hammer or spikes… but maybe there was another way after all.

Danerys Shouted **Lok** - **Vah** - **Koor** to still the wind and give her time. She stripped naked and put everything into her pack. She made sure it was tied securely. She loosened the straps, and then she was ready. She reached into herself, to the wild and angry beast that dwelled inside her now. For the first time in a long time, she set the beast free. She rolled in pain as she transformed. Her bones shifted and grew as did her teeth. Her nails on both her hands and feet lengthened and grew into claws as hard as iron. She rose up on all fours and howled, but she controlled her beast. She picked up her pack, and awkwardly slung it over her shoulder by one strap. Then she began to climb.

The wall of ice that stymied her in human form was trivial in her wereform. She drove her claws into the icy surface as easily as if it was mud. With firm holds it was easy to scale right up the glacier. The hard part was holding back the beast. She wanted to run, but climbing took both the strength of the beast and human cunning. In no time at all, she was at the top of that icy climb. She kept going and bounded easily up a rock-strewn slope that would have been a hard scramble for her human self. She continued to blaze a trail up the mountain while the transformation lasted. She covered in minutes what would have taken her hours of hard climbing. Sadly, it couldn’t last. Hircine’s gift fade leaving her cold, tired, and naked on icy rocks, but also victorious because she could see no major obstacles between herself and the summit.

The fourth day of the climb was easy compared to the previous day. There were occasional walls of stone, but they were easily bypassed. She knew she would reach the summit which had been her goal. However, it also bothered her that her goal was so easily within her grasp – because she could count. This was the 21st of Midyear. That date was too much for her to believe in coincidence. It made her question just how much of everything was unfolding as the gods planned. Was the end of the world a joke to them? Was she merely a puppet, a toy, dancing for their amusement? Or just a piece on the board of some game they were playing? She felt the temptation to make camp and just rest in her tent for a day. She could finish the climb on the 22nd. However, her followers were waiting on her. Even if the gods pulled the strings of her fate, she still had the power to determine how she faced her destiny. Besides, it was not an accident that she had ended up here. She had received signs, portents, and dreams. She had eagerly chosen to follow them. She could throw a fit like a child, or she could march up that mountain and face her destined meeting on her terms. Put that way, the decision was easy. She had dreamt of this moment. She would not hide from it now. She made a rude gesture up at the sky and climbed up the mountain. She kept a steady pace, neither rushing nor delaying the inevitable. Without a sundial she couldn’t be sure the sun was at its zenith as she arrived at the top of the mountain, but it was certainly close.

At noon on the Summer Solstice of the year 202 of the 4th Era, Daenerys Targaryen, Dragonborn, ascended to the summit of the Throat of the World.


	21. Chapter 20

# Chapter 20

Sundas, the 21th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys was not at all surprised to find a dragon waiting for her at the summit. She had known he would be there. She had dreamed of meeting a dragon atop this mountain months ago when she was a student at the College of Winterhold. Sometimes she dreamed the dragon was the one from Helgen. The black dragon who she now believed to be Al-Du-In. He was breathtakingly powerful, ancient but not aged, beautiful but arrogant. That was not the dragon that awaited her. It was the other dragon, the one she now knew was Paar-Thur-Nax. She had seen him in her dreams as well: ancient, powerful, and scarred. Unlike Al-Du-In he had been touched and aged by the passage of time. His horns and chin spikes were chipped, his wings were torn, his scales were dull in age and even missing in some places. Yet, he radiated power and presence stronger than even that of Clavicus Vile.

Paar-Thur-Nax waited for her atop a rock, soaking up the noon sun. He shifted his position to look at her, but he did not take flight. “Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin.” Peace Fire Sky, Dragonborn. He spoke with a rumbling voice that shook the air and the world. He wasn’t Shouting, but Dovahzul was the language of power.

“Drem Yol Lok." She replied repeating his welcome and trying to put as much of the true pronunciation as possible into every word. “Paar-Thur-Nax.”

“Paar-Thur-Nax,” he corrected her. His Words were more than just their sounds. They vibrated with power and meaning even though he didn’t Shout them.

When he said the Words she heard their deeper meaning, Ambition-Overlord-Cruelty. A part of her wanted to bow, curtsey, or tremble, but that was a human response. That was not how to act with a dragon. Prey cowered. She was not prey. She kept her eyes firmly on his as she corrected her pronunciation. “Drem Yol Lok, Paar-Thur-Nax.”

“Viseim.” Acceptable. “Hi Tinvaak Pruzah.” You speak well. “Fah joor.” For a mortal. The slight lowering of his eyelids revealed that he was pleased. “Druv Bo Dii Strunmah?” Why come my mountain?

“Hi Strunmah?” she asked in return. Your mountain? “Daar Strunmah Kaan.” This is Kyne’s mountain.

Paar-Thur-Nax laughed with a rumbling sound that felt like someone was tickling her soul. “Vahzah.” True. “Daar Strunmah Kaanro.” This is Kyne’s mountain. “Ahrk Hofkiin Dii.” And my home. “Daar Staad Dii!” This place mine!

She promptly agreed with him, “Daar Staad Hin.” This place yours. She was not challenging his territory. She also realized she’d made a mistake. Kaan was Kyne. He used Kaanro which must mean be the possessive, Kyne’s. While the language came easily to her, with the exception of a few Words of Power, she had learned Dovahzul from a book. It wasn’t surprising that she was making mistakes, but she felt a deep sense of shame for not getting it right.

“Pruzh.” Good. “Druv Bo Dii Hofkiin?” Why come my home?

“Dez.” Destiny. She tried to keep the distaste off her face. She still was bitter at the realization that her path seemed to be predestined. “Mindah.” Knowledge. “Ahrk Strunmah Kaan Lost Dii Siid Untak.” And Kyne’s Mountain was my third trial.

“Frolaaz Zey.” Forgive me. “Prudaav Kent Kos Koriaan.” Proprieties must be observed. “Fod Dov Grind.” when Dov meet. “Naal Hahtaar.” By Custom. “Zuwuth Tinvaak Diist.” The Eldest Speaks First. Paarthurnax rose up to his full height and spread his wings. “Hon Dii Thu'um!” Hear my Shout. “Fraan Nii Ko Hin Qeth” Feel it in your bones. He arched his neck and Shouted. “ **Yol** – **Toor** – **Shul**!” His Words caught fire, and a gout of flame spewed from his mouth searing the air.

Fire had always fascinated her. She watched raptly as the flame passed so close to her head that she could have reached out her hand and touched it. Her face flushed with the warmth of the heat of the passage and with something more. He was a dragon; she was human, but she felt the same kind of warmth she did watching a powerful man hot and sweaty from a fight. “Hin Thu’um Los Sahrot.” Your Shout is mighty.

“Met Nii.” Match it. “Waan Hi Vis.” If you can.

Apparently, men were the same regardless of species. They always had to show off and prove they were better. Men flexed their muscles. Dragons roared their Shouts. Very well, she could play that game. She breathed in deeply and took careful aim just over his head. “ **Yol** – **Toor** – **Shul**!” Fire – Inferno – Sun, three fundamental blocks upon which the world was built coming together as a weapon, her Thu’um. Her Shout was not as loud as his. Her fire did not burn as bright or go as far. However, it was stronger than it had been. Her Thu’um had grown since she Inhaled Lok-Nos-Dov.

“Geh.” Yes. “Sossedov Los Mul.” The Dragonblood is strong. “Hin Yolos Ag Hez.” Your flame burns hot. Paar-Thur-Nax moved forward a little and settled down to the ground. His wings settled on his back, and his tail swung around, resting along the side of his body.

Daenerys recognized the position as one of relaxation. It was the dragon equivalent of sitting. She decided to match Paar-Thur-Nax by sinking to the ground and sitting cross-legged.

“Lingrah Lost Zu'u Lahney Naalein Nau Dii Strunmah.” Long have I lived alone on my mountain. “Vos Mii Tinvaak.” Let us talk. “Vir Los Hi Faan?” How are you named?

“Daenerys.” She couldn’t help smiling. Since Paar-Thur-Nax was the leader of the pacifistic Greybeards, she had hoped he wouldn’t be too hostile, but this was a better reception than she hoped. She was tempted to immediately ask him about the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. That was why she had climbed the mountain. To obtain his approval, so she could find the horn. However, he had mentioned proprieties that must be observed. She spent four days climbing the mountain. She could talk to him first. Making demands now just felt wrong. “Kaanro Strunmah Los Volg.” Kyne’s mountain is wild. “Ahrk Brit.” And beautiful. “Nuz Nunt.” But barren. “Druv Fey Het?” Why stay here?

“Daar Staad Dii.” This place mine. “Heyv. Vahlok. Orbalaan.” Duty. Guardian. Redemption.

So, he was the guardian of Kyne’s sacred mountain. The last she understood far too well. “Orbalaan.” Redemption. “Wundaak Voth Nid Oblaan.” A journey with no end.

Paar-Thur-Nax inhaled deeply and held his breath. It reminded Daenerys of the way she Inhaled a dragon when it died. Was he literally breathing in her words? After a long while he exhaled. “Wundaak Voth Nid Oblaan.” A journey with no end. “Vahzen.” Truth. “Hi Tinvaak Nol Seirak?” You speak from experience? “Mal Dov?” Little dragon?

Little dragon? Was that supposed to be endearment? He was larger, older, and stronger than her both physically and in the Thu'um. However, the appellation grated upon her. It diminished everything she had achieved. It reminded her of every courtier and advisor who thought her to be nothing but a silly little girl who had stumbled into power, a fool ignorant of the ways of the world. Did Paar-Thur-Nax believe that she was too young, too innocent, to understand that redemption was never truly possible? “Geh.” Yes. “Ko Dii Wund Fah Suleyk.” In my quest for power. “Fah Krund Tol Lost Dii Viilut.” For the throne that was my right. “Zu'u Vuth Ahst Nid” I stopped at nothing. “Nid.” Nothing.

“Nid?” Nothing? “Hi Los Dov.” You are Dov. “Dov Wahlaan Fah Rel.” Dov are built to dominate. “Fen Wah Suleyk Los Ko Un Sos.” The will to power is in our blood. “Nii Los Ko Hin Sos.” It is in your blood. “Druv Yah Orbalaan?” Why seek redemption?

“Zu'u Lost Folaas!” I was wrong! “Muz.” Men. “Miil.” Women. “Kiir.” Children. “Dilon.” Dead. “Fah Dii Paar.” For my ambition.

“Paar,” agreed Paar-Thur-Nax with a tone laced with sadness. “Vahzen.” Truth.

She copied the action she had seen from him. She breathed in as if she was trying to Inhale the word. Vahzen. Truth. It had been ambition. She told herself that she would break the wheel. That the sacrifice had to be made, but she was just doing what every noble house did – betray and kill to reach the top.

Paarthurnax made a low humming sound in his throat. “What changed?” he asked using the tongue of man for the first time.

She smiled that he spoke to her in human speech. “The same thing that always happens to those that place their ambition above all else. Treachery. Betrayal. Death. The one I loved and trusted above all others stabbed me in the heart.” Jon Snow. She blinked back the tears not for the man that betrayed her, but for the crushed dream of what might have been. “I died. I awoke here in Skyrim on a bed of ashes. The gods gave me another chance, and now I seek redemption.”

“Not the gods, little dov. Al-Du-In. He's calling the Dov from beyond time back to flesh. Those who served him once will serve him again. Strange. You returned as Dovahkiin instead of Dovah. How much remembrance of your life before this life?”

Al-Du-In brought her back to life? Not the gods? But that fit. The dragon burial mound they passed on the road from Windhelm to the Nightgate Inn had looked just like the stone basin where she awoke when she arrived in Skyrim. However, the gods were involved. Talos sent Grandfather, and someone sent the red comet. She shook her head slightly and focused on the question Paar-Thur-Nax had asked of her. “Zu'u Dahmaan Nii Pah.” I remember it all.

“Vahzen?” Truth. “Num.” Rare. “Vogaan Dov Dahmaan Ulaan Laas.” Few dov remember an entire life. “Fod Ko Klur.” While in the egg.

What? She thought she was unique. “Pah Dov Lahney Pogaan Lahney?” All Dov live many lives?

“Geh.” Yes. “Daar Kopraan Los Qarah.” These bodies are shells. “Dinok Los Stin.” Death is freedom. “Vortii Buld.” Beyond form. “Vortii Tiid.” Beyond time.

“Ahrk Joor?” And mortals? “Vortii Buld?” Beyond form? “Fortii Tiid?” Beyond time?

Paar-Thur-Nax rumbled with laughter. “Nid.” No. “Joor Los Niraat.” Mortals are prey. “Ko Lein Ahrk Ko Lovok.” In Lein and in Lovak.

Daenerys frowned. “Lein? Lovok?” She didn’t recall seeing those in the books she read on Dovahzul.

“Mundus and Aetherius, as men say. Mortals are just chattel in this world and the next. The Aedra may be a bit more kind to their pets. The Daedra more honest. They are all bound by time. Not us. We are Dov.”

Daenerys frowned. Was this the truth of reality or just dragon religion? It didn’t seem to hold together. “If the Dov are free after death, then why be reborn?”

“Ahhh, that is a good question. Hard to say. I folded myself. Much of what I am does not fit in this egg, this shell. Perhaps for the pleasures of flesh. Perhaps for the freedom of choice, or at least the illusion of choice. Perhaps for the same reason that the gods made Mundus. When this egg cracks, and I fly free, then I will remember.”

While this was very interesting on one level, she wasn't certain how much of it to believe. On one hand, Paar-Thur-Nax was a dragon that had lived for thousands of years. Men thought The Greybeards were wise, and they deferred to Paar-Thur-Nax. On the other hand, he had just admitted that his beliefs were based more in feeling than fact. Maybe this really was dragon religon? Then again Nirn was different from Planetos. Mages had actually been to Oblivion. Aedra and Daedra meddled in affairs of the world. Still, even if she was a potentially immortal being because she had a dragon soul, what did it really change? She had still burned King's Landing. The gods still wanted her to defeat Al-Du-In. If she didn't, then the world would end...

“So, if Dov are eternal, what happens if Al-Du-In destroys the entire world? What happens to Dovah then?”

Paar-Thur-Nax laughed again. “Al-Du-In has devoured the world before. Al-Du-In will devour the world again. You may delay him for a time, Dovahkiin, but this world will end, and a new one will begin. Another kalpa. The wheel keeps on turning on and on, never-ending.”

The wheel? No, he was not talking about the great game. It was either religious babbling or something more profound than noble houses rising and falling in the game of thrones. “What is a kalpa?”

“A great cycle. From the dawn of creation until the last spark is smothered. From the start of time unto the end. That is a kalpa. Tien in Dovahzul. As you should know better than most, little dragonborn. Tell me, this life that you remember, was it here, on Nirn?”

Daenerys shook her head. “No, it could not be. Magic is different. The gods are different. The stars were different. Even the seasons were different. Here seasons are so tame. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and then Winter. Three months of each. In Vys seasons lasted for years and we never knew for how long. Kingdoms stored food in the summer and autumn against the long years of winter.”

Paar-Thur-Nax shifted position and settled back down. “Fund Hi Ofun Hin Tey?” Would you share your story?” “Mal Dov.” Little Dov. “Zu'u Fen Ofan.” I will give you. “Hi Fos Hi Tolaan.” What you desire. “Mindah.” Knowledge. “Hin Zun” Your weapon. “Wah Al-du-in.” Against Al-du-in. “Fah Hin Wundaak Tol Dreh Ni Oblaan.” For your journey that does not end.

“Frundiin.” Gladly. It was a small price to pay. Besides Paar-Thur-Nax never left the Throat of the World. Who was he going to tell?

She had told her story once before to Brelyna. Paar-Thur-Nax was a more active listener. He asked many questions. He seemed more interested in the story of her life and particularly why she had done the things she had done. He didn’t care much at all about the differences in gods, magic, and even dragons. That was unimportant to him, even expected. “Vomedaas Tein.” Different kalpa. “Vomedaas Thun.” Different laws. “Ol Nii Fend Kos.” As it should be.

Paar-Thur-Nax was amused that men and mer didn’t get along any better on Planetos than they did on Nirn. “Karon Ahrk Lom.” Oil and water. “Muz Ahrk Slaag.” Men and mer.

It was the longest day of the year, but with all of Paar-Thur-Nax’s questions, the sun was sinking low on the horizon as she neared the end of her story. “I still don’t understand why I did it. I know my reason. To break the wheel. To end the cycle of one noble house after another squabbling over thrones while the people suffered. Yet, it was madness. How could anything built on a foundation of the slaughter of so many be anything but evil?”

“Nust Drey Ni Qiilaak.” They did not submit. “Zu'u Drey Rinis.” I did the same. “Mu Los Dov.” We are Dov. “Dov Wahlaan Fah Rel.” We are built to dominate. “Fen Wah Suleyk Los Ko Un Sos.” The will to power is in our blood. “Nii Los Dii Faan.” It is my Name. “Paar.” Ambition. “Thur.” Overlord. “Nax.” Cruelty. “Mu Los Rinis.” We are the same. “Zu’u Ahrk Aey.” You and I.

He rose up and his neck arched his neck as he gathered his breath and Shouted. “ **Paar**! **Thur**! **Nax**!”

She was standing right in front of him and the Words of his Name hit her with almost physical force. **Paar** - **Thur** - **Nax**. Ambition-Overlord-Cruelty. Paar. Ambition. The drive to achieve. To climb. To reach the summit. It had overtones of determination. Of sheer iron will, but the kind that made others submit. **Thur**. Overlord. One who stand over others. Who rules by right and might. Emperor. Empress. Ruler. **Nax**. Cruelty. Malice. Pain inflicted for no greater purpose than the enjoyment of causing it. **Paar** - **Thur** - **Nax**. That was sum and total of the dragon in front of her.

The words struggled and roiled within her. She couldn’t hold them in, though she wanted to, but she had truly Heard them. She could not contain them. She had to set them free. Although she did not want to Name him thus. She surged to her own feet and Shouted back at him. “ **Paar** - **Thur** - **Nax**!”

She covered her mouth with her hand and looked down at the ground in shame. She closed her eyes; breathed in; breathed out. She raised her eyes up to look at him and realized she had looked away. She had acted like prey, but he hadn’t attacked. “That is your Name, but that is not who you choose to be. You fight your nature, and in doing so you overcome. You are eternal and endless, but not unchanging. By your choices you have become more than your Words.”

“Geh!” Yes! “Ahrk Ful, Lost Hi.” And so, have you.

.oOo.

Paar-Thur-Nax insisted that it was his duty as the host to provide food. He flew away and returned with the haunch of an elk. It was cooked to a crisp on the outside and a bit raw near the bone, but there was more than enough meat for her to dine upon for days. She ate her fill and saved some for the journey down. When she was done, Paar-Thur-Nax devoured what was left in a single bite.

“Praan Nu.” Rest now. “Mal Dov.” Little Dov. “Zos Tinvaak.” More talk. “Mindinsul.” Tomorrow.

“Krolurend.” Agreement. “Zu'u Los Laagus.” I am tired. She opened her pack and began to pitch a tent.

After watching her for a bit Paar-Thur-Nax laughed. “Nid, Mal Dov.” No, little dov. “Bo Het.” He lifted a wing. “Faadusiik.” Warmer.

Daenerys knew it would be warmer. Despite their superficial resemblance to reptiles, dragons were warm-blooded. In fact they were hot enough to melt the snow where they slept in Winterfell. She had always felt that heat comforting. It irritated her a little that Paar-Thur-Nax treated her like a child, but compared to his thousands of years of age, she was a child. The prospect of being fully warm for the first time in days was enough to persuade her. She grabbed her bedroll and lay down by his side. Paar-Thur-Nax stretched his wing over her. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly safe.

She dreamed dragon dreams. Flying through the skies atop Drogon. The battle against the Night King and her own child. The burning of King’s Landing as the bells tolled. She dreamed of the black dragon of Helgen, Al-Du-In, Destroyer-Devour-Master, flying through the skies. He Shouted and fire rained down from the sky. In her dreams she saw three Nords confront him Shouting Words of Power. She could not make out their Words, but whatever they Shouted sent him crashing to the peak. Still, that wasn’t enough to defeat Al-Du-In. They tried to fight him. Then one of them pulled out something and unrolled it. Once it was unfurled, she saw something written on it. Strange symbols that she couldn’t make out. It hurt her eyes to even try. Daenerys woke suddenly and sat bolt upright.

“Mal dov.” Little dov. “Drem.” Peace. “Hi Los Tahriik.” You are safe.

Daenerys blinked her eyes. Black spots drifted across her vision, as if she had glanced at the sun. She channeled healing magic, but it didn’t seem to do anything to help the spots. Although they were slowly fading on their own. She crawled away from Paar-Thur-Nax and retrieved her canteen. She poured cold water on her eyes, which helped a little. She blinked away the water. “I don’t know what happened. I was dreaming a dream. A dragon dream and those are often true, but they have never hurt me before. Three Nords were here on this mountain. Two men and a woman. They were fighting Al-Du-In. They Shouted something and he crashed down to the summit.”

“Dovahkroz.” Dragonrend. “Mindah Hi Yah” The knowledge you seek. “Hin Zun Wah Al-Du-In.” Your weapon against Al-Du-In. “Hi Hahnu Vahzah.” You dream true. “Daar Staad Alduin Mah.” This place Alduin fell. “Tiid Tul Luvmah Het.” Time still weeps here. “Haalvut Hin Hahnu.” Touched your dream.

Dragonrend? She’d come to learn about the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, but she certainly wanted to learn about this weapon now! She moved over in front of Paar-Thur-Nax and sat back down to resume their conversation. “The three Nords that I saw, they killed Al-Du-In with Dragonrend?”

Paar-Thur-Nax settled down to talk and rested his wings. However, he did not curl up his tail. Instead it twitched behind him, a sign of agitation. “Geh Ahrk Nid.” Yes and no. “Viik Nuz Ni Kron.” Defeat but not conquer. “Rok Lost Daal.” He has returned. “Vahzen?” Truth?

“Vahzen.” Truth. Obviously, he came back. Although… “Waan Al-Du-In Drun Zek Dilon Dovah...” If Al-Du-In is bringing back the dead dovah. “…Wo Drun Zek Alduin.” Who brought back Al-Du-In?

“Geh!” Yes! “Nu Hi Koraav Vokun Do Viing Avok Hi.” Now you see the shadow of wings above you. “Al-Du-In Neh Dir.” Al-Du-In never died.

She wasn’t sure she did see the shadow. She had already known that dragons were immortal and couldn’t be permanently killed. She just wanted to kill Al-Du-In for now. Some other hero could fight him when he returned. Still, what Paar-Thur-Nax was saying was important. If Alduin hadn’t died, then where had he been? Also, there was a missing piece. The Nords in her dream had used another weapon besides the Shout. They had also opened the scroll. If she was understanding this correctly. “Dovahkroz Vorohah Mok Votahriik?” Dragonrend made him vulnerable?

“Geh.” Yes.

Was he teasing her to answer with one word? “So, I need to learn Dragonrend. Will you teach me?” He had promised her knowledge.

“Krosis, Nid.” Sorrowfully, no. “Nii Nis Kos Mindok Wah Zey.” It cannot be known to me. “Uv Naan Dovah.” Or any dragon. He gave a little huff of frustration. “Joor Heim Dovahkroz.” Mortals forged Dragonrend. “Zun Wah Dovah.” Weapon against dragons. “Un Hadrimme Nis Orin Mindoraan Niil Zaak.” Our minds cannot even understand its idea.

So, it was a Shout made by mortals to hurt dragons. That opened up a whole world of questions. Could Shouts be created out of nothing? That didn’t feel right at all. No, somehow the ancient Nords had managed to learn the Word starting from the concept. Which was like deciding the sun should rise now and seeing it happen. Where would you even begin? Or perhaps they had help? The gods certainly meddled enough. That honestly seemed more likely. There was another potential issue. If what she understood was true, weren’t dragonborn just dragon souls in human bodies? “Vis Dovahkiin Mindos Dovahkroz?” Can a dragonborn learn dragonrend?

“Aalkos.” Perhaps. “Grozah.” Likely. “Hi los joor.” You are mortal.

“Waan Hi Nis Mindov Zey, Ruz Wo?” If you cannot teach me, then who?

“Ni Wo.” Not who. “Fos.” What. “Faal Kel.” The Kel.

“Kel?” That was obviously Dovahzul from the overtones and undertones. In fact the word Kel echoed with them. More than most words. The other words that echoed like that were Words of Power being whispered. “What is a Kel?”

“In mortal tongue, an Elder Scroll, but that says nothing.” He paused and shifted back to Dovahzul. “Gaat.” Key. “Digoliik.” Enigma. “Mass Do Kiindah.” Seed Of Creation. “Pah Ahrk Nid.” All and nothing. “Vesey Do Ull” Kiss of Eternity.” He paused and made a grumbling noise. “Thu’um Los Saadom Ofan Zul.” Shouts are reality given voice. “Kel Malur Vonuntiv Wah Genun Vahzen.” Kel part the veil to show the truth.

He sounded like an adult trying to explain to a child why things fall down instead of up, or a poet trying to define love with words. It sounded like something that had to be experienced to be understood. She vaguely remembered something about an Elder Scroll being mentioned somewhere at the College of Winterhold, but whether it was in a book, a lecture, or conversation she couldn’t remember. However, it was a scroll. Which tied into her dream. “The Nords in my dream. They used the Elder Scroll as a weapon against Al-Du-In.”

“Geh.” Yes. “Kruziik Bron Gesahlo Al-Du-In Voth Dovahkroz.” Ancient Nords weakened Al-Du-In with Dragonrend. “Ni Ganog.” Not enough. “Ok Mul Unahzaal.” His strength unending. “Nii Los Faal Kel.” It was the Kel. “Fusk Mok Rokah.” Cast him to drift. “Nau Ven Do Tiid. “On winds of time.”

She sat there a moment just absorbing what she had heard. For the first time she actually had a plan to defeat Al-Du-In that wasn’t simply gather a lot of people together and pray. This had actual steps! Learn Dragonrend. Obtain an Elder Scroll. Use Dragonrend to cripple Al-Du-In. Then use the Elder Scroll to cast him adrift on the winds of time. It sounded a little crazy, but it had actually worked in the past. Which meant it could work again. Not that she wouldn’t try for the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. From what she recalled of her dream at least three Tongues had been battling Al-Du-In, and they had been losing. She wanted as many as she could get on her side.

“Mindoraan.” Understanding. “Nox.” Thankfulness. No, that was too weak. She owed him more than a simple thank you, even if she had shared her story. “Zu'u Fozir Hi.” I owe you. “Lot Fozir.” A great debt.

“Nid.” No. “Lot Tey.” Great story. “Num.” Unique. “Nid Fozir.” No debt.

“Nox.” Thankfulness. If he was willing to count her story a fair trade, she would accept that. After all it was knowledge for knowledge. She still had to learn Dragonrend, find an Elder Scroll, and somehow use it to banish Al-Du-In through time. Although the two were apparently related. “Vir Kel Mindov Dovahkroz?” How can an Elder Scroll teach Dragonrend?

“Tiid Krent Daar Staad.” Time broken in this place. “Waan Hi Drun Kel Het.” If you bring an Elder Scroll here. “Wah Faal Tiid-Ahraan” To the Time-Wound. “Etaak Faal Kel.” Read the Elder Scroll. “Hon Niist Thu'um.” Hear their Shout. “Ruz Hi Vust Mindos.” Then you could learn. “Nol Faal Vun Wo Heim Nii.” From the Tongues who forged it.

So, all she needed was an Elder Scroll? Somehow, she didn’t feel it would be easy. “Kolos Fend Zu'u Frolok?” Where should I look? “Wah Siiv Kel?” To find an Elder Scroll.

“Vomindok.” I do not know. “Staad Mindos?” Places of learning?

“The College of Winterhold then.” Not that the College would be too far out of her way. She already had plans to return Azura’s Star to the Shrine of Azura, but it was already midsummer. She did not want to get snowed in at Winterhold again for the winter.

“Aalkos.” Perhaps? “Pruzah Gon.” A good start.

So, she read the Elder Scroll to learn Dragonrend. “Vir Fusk Fir Al-Du-In?” How do I cast out Al-Du-In?

“Vomindok.” I do not know. “Aalkos Ko Dreh.” Perhaps in doing. “Nust Aagis Mindah” They erased the knowledge. “Nol Tiid Nimaar.” From time itself.

“Ruz, Zu'u Fent Siiv Kel.” Then, I shall find an Elder Scroll. She sighed. Despite her feigned determination this was not a real plan. Just a vague hope that maybe if she found an Elder Scroll and brought it back here she could learn Dragonrend, and then ‘somehow’ use the scroll to banish Al-Du-In. As plans go it was only marginally better than the plan to defeat the Night King. Although at least she wasn’t facing Al-Du-In tomorrow. She would have time to find an Elder Scroll and try to make it work. However, this did emphasize that her original plan needed to move forward as well. “Kolos Vis Zu'u Siiv Jurgen Zahk?” Where can I find Jurgen’s horn?

“Jurgen Zahk?” Paar-Thur-Nax laughed loudly. “Ni Jurgen Zahk.” Not Jurgen’s horn. “Neh Jurgen Zahk.” Never Jurgen’s horn. “Kaan zahk.” Kyne’s horn. “Sizaan fah bok.” Lost for ages. “Vomindok.” I do not know.

Once again he did not know. Hopefully, the Greybeards had a clue. Arngeir at least acted like he was withholding information. She studied Paar-Thur-Nax. She had her knowledge now. At least as much of it as she could gain. Now what? “Zu'u Lost Mindah Nu.” I have my knowledge now. “Wah Paagol Dii Wundaak Tol Dreh Ni Oblaan.” To walk my journey that does not end. “Aal Zu'u Laan Ziin Hindah?” May I ask two favors?

“Hi Aal Laan.” You may ask.

“Fund Hi Mindov Zey?” Would you teach me? “Fo-Krah-Diin?” Frost-Cold-Freeze? She felt that Shout more than any other would help her against fire dragons. “Ahrk.” And “Nid Faazrot Sukah.” No insult intended. “Zu'u Fund Lokaal Wah Bo Voknau Hin Zek.” I would love to fly upon your back. “Ahrk Ken Lok Ontzos.” And taste the sky again.


	22. Omake - Other Lives

**Omake – Other Lives**

Daenerys was exhausted both physically and emotionally after telling the story of her life to Paar-Thur-Nax, but she was also curious. “You said that it is unusual to remember a past life, what do you remember?”

Paar-Thur-Nax rumbled in laughter. “Malur Do Pogaan.” Pieces of many. “Mal Dov.” Little dov. “Zu'u dahmaan…” I remember… “Ruuv Do Yuvon Ahrk Sogaal.” A hoard of gold and gems. “Ol Dii Sek.” As my bed. “Ahrk Maltiid Vum Muz Motag Zey.” And short bearded men annoyed me. “Zu'u dahmaan…” I remember… “Bo Zeim Lok.” Flying through the sky. “Zoriik Nau Dii Zek.” A rider on my back. “Sahqo Dinok Mah.” Red death fell. “Med Ritrin Nol Lok.” Like ribbons from the sky. “Zu'u dahmaan…” I remember… “Laag Dil Ko Frin Yolget Mithil.” Sleeping deep in the hot molten core. “Ahrk Pogaan Pogaan Zos.” And many many more.

“Tol Los Zurun.” That is strange. Daenerys had trouble wrapping her mind around what she had heard. Why would a dragon care about gold or gems? It wasn’t like they could buy or sell them. Red death falling like ribbons from the sky? And sleeping in a volcano? Or deeper. He said core.

Paar-Thur-Naax rumbled with laughter again. “Vomedaas Tein.” Different kalpa. “Vomedaas Thun.” Different laws. “Ol Nii Fend Kos.” As it should be.

Daenerys shrugged. She didn’t understand it, but she wasn’t going to argue. “Ol Hi Saag.” As you say.

“Dreh Hi Dahmaan Vorey Lahney.” Do you remember other lives?

Daenerys started to say no, but there was that one dream where she was living lightning trapped in glass, but also somehow a metal dragon golem. However, that was probably just a dream. It was just too weird. “Nid. Nunon Gein Laas.” No, just the one life.


	23. Chapter 23

# Chapter 21

Fredas, the 24rd of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

When she descended from High Hrothgar two boys standing watch at the bridge screamed out “It’s the Dragonborn!” before running back to Ivarstaad.

By the time she and her followers reached Ivarstead, most of the town had turned out to greet her. The streets weren’t quite as crowded as they had been for her first arrival in Ivarstead, but it was close. While she knew the townsfolk were grateful to her for slaying Lok-Nos-Dov, their level of enthusiasm was almost as great as that of the former slaves she’d freed in Meereen. The headman and the town elders were again waiting for her. This time they were just standing in the middle of the road instead of atop a wagon, but they still came out to meet her. She was obviously going to have to say a few words. She even saw many of the Dragonguard standing among the crowd cheering her arrival. She supposed that was only to be expected after the way the Greybeards had greeted her return to High Hrothgar. 

Wilhelm, the town’s headman confirmed her guess with the first words out of his. “Dragonborn! We heard the Shouting even from down here. What did the Greybeards say?”

Daenerys collected titles the way some princesses collected pretty baubles, but the title the Greybeards had bestowed upon her wasn’t just another title. It would bring Nords flocking to her banner, and it opened a perilous path to power. However, she wasn’t sure she wanted to chase another throne, especially not now. She had managed a delicate dance of neutrality between the Empire and the Stormcloaks so far, but this title could ruin it. Once word got out, the Empire might view her as a more dangerous threat than Ulfric Stormcloak and with good reason. However, she couldn’t just ignore the title and pretend the Greybeards hadn’t spoken. Most of her followers were Nords. Word of her new title would get out. She couldn’t reject the title without insulting Nord traditions. Trying to hide from the title would just come back to bite her in the ass later.

Daenerys drew herself up to her full height, such as it was. She draped a regal mien about herself like donning a worn but comfortable dress. This title had been thrust upon her, but she would embrace it and own it. “These are the words of the Greybeards to me:

Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul,  
Voth nid balaan klov praan nau.  
Naal Thu'umu mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin,  
Naal suleyk do Kaan,  
Naal suleyk do Shor  
Ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth.  
Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom  
Dahmaan daar rok.

The headman wiped his hands on his apron, clearly a nervous habit that revealed he was an innkeeper at heart despite also being the headman of the town. “Yes, yes, but what does that mean?”

Daenerys looked over to Jon Battle-born and gave him a nod. It would be better if someone else proclaimed the title.

Jon bowed and stepped forward. He spoke loudly and clearly so that his words carried over the gathered throng. “In the tongue of man and mer, in the common tongue of Tamriel, this is what the Greybeards said:

Long in sorrow has waited the Stormcrown  
With no worthy head to rest on.  
By our Voice we give it now to you, Dragonborn,  
By the power of Kyne  
By the power of Shor  
And by the power of Atmora-of-old.  
You have become now Ysmir, Dragon of the North.  
Remember these words.

The crowd listened raptly until Jon got to the word Ysmir. The word swept through the crowd like a scythe through wheat. People fell to their knees and bent their heads. Not all were as quick to grasp the meaning, but seeing everyone else kneel, they also fell to their knees. Parents grabbed at small children and guided them down as well.

Daenerys wasn’t surprised by the reaction. The title Ysmir, Dragon of the North had only been bestowed by the Greybeards once before. It was the title given to Tiber Septim, the founder of the Empire who ascended to become the god, Talos. As everyone else knelt her attention was drawn to two men who remained standing. They had been hidden before behind the other spectators, but with everyone else kneeling they stood out like a sore thumb. They wore thick robes with strange skull helmets. She had never seen their like on Planetos or in Skyrim.

The strangers marched forward kicking at some that didn’t get out of their way. One of them yelled at her as they advanced. “Lies! Lies! Deceivers! Do not let this lie take root in your hearts! We shall expose the falseness of these words by tearing out her hers!” He extended his arm and lightning exploded from his hand.

Sofija must have started moving before he cast because she took the lightning bolt on her shield, but that didn’t stop the surge of electricity. The lightning that struck Sofija jumped to Daenerys, and then it jumped again and again. Meanwhile, the other masked fanatic summoned a Flame Atronarch. The daedra in the form of a fiery woman immediately began lobbing balls of fire indiscriminately at the crowd.

While the shock of the lightning hurt, Daenerys wasn’t even knocked off her feet. The bolt had jumped on to others in her party. She felt a sudden fury come over her that these fools were using such destructive magic in the middle of a crowd with children. However, she couldn’t risk most of her Shouts because of the same crowd. Instead she Shouted, “ **Feim**!” and faded into a ghostly form. She charged forward hoping to draw any further spells onto herself knowing she couldn’t be harmed.

Her fading to the ethereal wasn’t necessary. Enough of her troops had responded that the attacking mages were almost immediately beset on all sides by her troops. They were quickly surrounded and stabbed multiple times by swords and spears.

By the time her Shout faded they were dead. She put aside her rage to worry about the damage they had caused. There would be time for answers later. “Who is injured?! I can heal.”

“Here! Here!” screamed a woman rushing forward with a child in her arms. He was a young boy, probably ten or eleven, and from the burns on him, he’d been blasted by the Flame Atronarch. He wasn’t crying or screaming.

Daenerys wasn’t sure if he was even alive. She could see bone, but his wounds were still bleeding, so there was hope. She reached for magic, and out of desperation she called out for help, “Talos, please!” This was the first time she’d ever truly called upon a god for healing. Colette, the Mistress of Restoration back at the College of Winterhold had always claimed that faith in the gods could be a more powerful Seeming than a mere desire to ease the suffering. She had tried, but it had never worked for her before. This time it did. Her magic flowed and for the short time it lasted she felt the presence of something larger than herself.

The boy’s wounds turned from charred and black, to blood-red and angry, and then turned to pristine flesh. Even his hair grew back in. The boy’s eyes opened, and he hugged her. “Thank you.”

Suddenly she was almost knocked down by the mother also hugging her. The woman babbled a constant stream of thanks. “Shh, he’s fine now. I have to see to the others.”

She found out there were no other major injuries. Whoever the skull-masked lunatics were, they hadn’t lasted long enough to cause much damage. Sofija wasn’t good at healing others, but she had healed herself. One serious injury had been treated with a potion. However, there were several minor injuries. Deliberately she called upon Talos again, invoking him silently. The healing magic flowed, not as strong as with the boy, but stronger than it had for her in the past. It also felt cleaner somehow, but without the presence of before.

When the last of the injured had been tended to, she put aside her breakthrough in healing. That would be something for thought, meditation, and possibly prayer later. She had turned to face her advisors and the town elders. “Who were they? Who sent them? Where were they from? I want answers!”

.oOo.

Once everything had calmed down, she met with her small council in a room at the local inn to review what little they had discovered about the assassins and to plan their next steps. She also added Marcus Verres, the Imperial underofficer that Legate Fasendil had assigned to her. Marcus Verres had short dark wavy hair that glistened like he oiled it. He was young for an officer, but Fasendil recommended him highly. He was the second son of a minor noble from Cheydinhal in Cyrodiil, and he had trained in both war and diplomacy from a young age. So far, he had proved himself highly competent which was a good thing considering she her tentative plans for the coming month.

However, the assassins were her top priority. “So, what can you tell me about the two mages who attacked me?”

Gaius Paulinus spread his hands. “Not much that you haven’t heard already. While there isn’t a lot of trade between the Rift and the rest of Skyrim, especially with the dragon attacks going on, much of what trade does exist passes through Ivarstead. I had my men ask questions. The town elders asked questions as well. People noticed two strangers because they were Dunmer, but they weren’t wearing those costumes when they entered Ivarstead. Even Wilhelm couldn’t add any details beyond what they ordered for dinner. The best we can guess is they changed into their robes and masks while they were waiting for you to return from High Hrothgar.”

“I’ve gone through their possessions,” said Faralda. “Whoever they were, they were not poor. Their robes were enchanted, one for Destruction and one for Magicka. They both had a little more than fifty septims on them. Not pocket change, but not that unusual for travelers. The masks seem to be the biggest clue. They may look like bone, but they’re actually carved out of chitin. Dunmer origin, most likely. There are many strange beasts in Morrowind and some have shells stronger than metal.”

Daenerys didn’t find that much of a surprise as both attackers were Dunmer. “That doesn’t narrow things down much, does it? What about the design? It looks like a ten-legged sea creature from the seas of my home. The small ones are less the length of a hand and are good eating when breaded and fried. The large ones were very rare, but they were known to sink ships.” It wasn’t often she was stumped for words any longer, but if they existed here, she didn’t know their proper names.

“We have them in Tamriel,” said Faralda. “Especially off the coast of the Summerset Isles. The small ones are called squid. The large ones are called kraken. You’re correct, the masks do resemble a squid. I was thinking of a netch because both attackers were Dunmer. However, these projections on the sides hint at more tenacles than a netch has.”

“And what are netch?” asked Daenerys

“The Dunmer raise them, like men raise cattle,” explained Camilla. “Picture a giant jellyfish floating in the air with four to six tentacles hanging down. They’re common enough in Morrowind. Their meat is tender, but doesn’t preserve very well. Properly treated their hides make a supple but tough leather. Netch jelly is also an ingredient in several potions.”

No one else seemed to be surprised by a giant jellyfish that floated in the air instead of the sea, or by Camilla rattling off the usages of netch in trade, so apparently netch were common knowledge. She had a hard time imagining something described as a giant floating jellyfish being raised like cattle, but netch were far from the strangest creature she’d heard about. “Alright then. So, does this tell us anything? Is there a noble house, a mercenary company, or any faction that uses squid, krakens, or netch as their symbol?

Her council shared some blank glances. After a slight pause Marcus Verres suggested, “None come to mind, but it’s possible. We can probably find a copy of _Noble Houses of the Empire_ in Riften.”

“We should look. It also wouldn’t hurt me to study the noble houses all things considered.” She wasn’t looking forward to it. She had flipped through that book in the library of Winterhelm after Enja made a stink about House Targaryen not being listed as a noble house. It was a huge tome that was updated every few years and contained the names of all current nobles houses in all of Tamriel. She couldn’t remember the author’s name, but whoever wrote it kept to boring facts instead of telling what made each noble house remarkable. She glanced over to Sofia. “You should study it as well.”

Sofia rolled her eyes briefly before resuming her usual serious face.

“So, what else do we know about these squidskulls?” She deliberately named them after the small edible sea creature than anything imposing. There was again silence. Daenerys sighed. “Very well, let’s talk about precautions.”

Gaius suggested setting up a formal Imperial camp complete with barricades and checkpoints every time they camped. Sofija wanted to stop and search everyone who they passed on the road. Daenerys overruled that one as causing more harm than good, but she did agree to accept more guards standing over her than just her housecarls. Nobody was entirely happy with the changes, but they increased her security without being unreasonable.

“Let’s move on,” declared Daenerys ending any further debate. “We need to discuss our next steps. Gaius, would you brief everyone on the status of the ballistae?” She already heard his report, but she needed to get her council up to speed.

“We have one working ballista now. I was skeptical they could build one, but Fultheim was wise to have the ballistae crews build the two that were destroyed. We salvaged the metal fittings and after some trial and error Temba Wide-Arm was able to cut logs to meet our needs. Finding the sinew was the hard part, but it’s built and tested now. The new one has about the same range and accuracy as the two the dragon destroyed.”

Daenerys nodded. “Good work, Gaius. Make sure the soldiers are commended as well. Now, this brings us to our next steps. We have a lot of places to visit in the north of Skyrim, but that’s a long journey. However, having come all the way to Ivarstead, I don’t want to leave the Rift without visiting Riften and Fort Dawnguard. That’s about a week to Riften and another to Fort Dawnguard. Add a week for talking to people and another for the return trip and that’s five weeks gone by. I want to use that time wisely, so we’re going to divide the Dawnguard into two units.

“All of the ballistae crew members will stay here and work on building more ballistae. Now that they have worked out the details, it should take less than a week to make one. I want to have at least six working ballistae when we’re ready to depart going north. The traveler reports say that there is a dragon roaming the sulfur pools region of Eastmarch. That’s too far from here to have been Lok-Nos-Dov. We know there is a dragonmount in that area, the Bonestrewn Crest. I would guess that’s his nest. The point I’m getting at is that when we leave here, we need to be ready to face another dragon.”

There were solemn nods from her council. Camilla raised her hand. “The problem will be sinew. It has a lot of uses, but it isn’t something that people stockpile or trade. There is usually enough local supply for local needs. The ballistae crew already asked me to secure more for them, but they used up much of the supply on the first ballistae. We can probably buy some in Riften, but I suggest we put Ull, Aela, Eloloir, and maybe some others on hunting duty. We can use the meat from their kills to help feed those that stay behind as well. Ivarstaad is being generous about hosting us now, but will they stay that way if we camp here for another month?”

Gaius shook his head. “I understand your reasoning, but those are our three best wilderness scouts. We’ll need at two of them with the half that’s going with Lady Targaryen to Fort Sunguard to scout ahead and make sure we’re not ambushed. We have other people who know how to hunt. Not of the same caliber as those three, but they can hunt while patrolling.”

Daenerys briefly drummed her fingers on the table. “I afraid Gaius is correct. We don’t have any reports from south of Riften. It’s far enough away from Lok-Nos-Dov’s territory that we might encounter another dragon. If so, we’ll need our best archers. Eloloir can stay in Ivarstead and be promoted to be over a hunting crew.” She had confidence in Eloloir, and she wanted Ull and Aela close to her. Ull had the potential to be a Tongue, and Aela was simply too deadly both as an archer and a werewolf to leave behind.

Camilla bowed her head. “Yes, Lady Targaryen.”

Daenerys gave her a nod in return. “Now, we need to talk about who goes and who stays. I’m going along with Sofija and Faralda. Camilla, I’ll need you to accompany us at least to Riften. We’ll see how much you can accomplish while we’re there. I may detach a few soldiers to serve as your guard, and you can stay in Riften longer while the rest of us continue to Fort Sunguard.”

Camilla smiled at that probably because buying and selling was something she did very well. “That sounds like it is for the best. We still have dwemer metal ingots to sell and it will take time to track down all the sinew and other supplies.”

“Thank you, Camilla. Now we need to talk about our Imperial troops and a command crew. Riften has declared for the Stormcloaks. We don’t yet know if they’ll accept the Dragonguard as neutral in the Stormcloak Rebellion. They might try to arrest any Imperial soldiers we take with us to Riften. My inclination is to leave almost all of them behind. Gaius, as almost half the troops staying Ivarstead will be Imperial troops detached to me, I’d like you to stay behind. You’re respected and can best command in my absence.”

Gaius nodded. “I agree that I am the most logical choice, but who are you putting in charge of the soldiers that will go with you? I’d suggest Jon Battle-born, but I’m not sure it is wise for him to go to Riften either.”

“It’s me, isn’t it?” asked Marcus Verres. “That’s why you added me to your small council.”

Daenerys nodded approval at Marcus. He grasped the situation quickly. “You’re correct. You’ll have to wear Dragonguard armor. Will that be a problem?”

“You know what they call a soldier who exchanges one uniform for another? A turncoat. Yes, it is potentially a problem, but only if I’m caught. That’s not likely, but still…” Marcus fixed his eyes on her as if trying to read something in them. “Tell me, what do you plan to do about your new title?”

“Own it,” replied Daenerys. “I cannot deny it. Word would get out. I’m worried it will draw Imperial ire, but I’m hoping to use to advance the same plan I have been advocating already. The Empire agrees that Skyrim is independent. Skyrim immediately rejoins the Empire with the right to follow their own religious beliefs.”

“And?” Marcus asked. “After that. After Skyrim rejoins the Empire and this plague of dragons is contained. What then?”

Ah. Daenerys knew what he was asking. Would she seek the throne of the Empire? She couldn’t help but remember what Arngeir told her. They Greybeards had seen the comet pointing to Cyrodiil. “I have no intention to end one civil war to start another, if that is what you are asking.” Although the Empire might not give her a choice. It was equally likely that the Empire would ask her to seal the treaty by marriage. However, she wasn’t about to say that to Marcus or Gaius. They would certainly tell their superiors. If she put marriage on the table starting out, then she lost all leverage that a political marriage might gain.

He sighed. “I’ve been going over the men in my mind and I can’t think of anyone to nominate instead of me. Jon Battle-born is the closest, but I would do the job better. Very well, I will wear Dragonguard armor and accept command of the men accompanying you to Riften.”

Daenerys gave him a nod and a smile. “Thank you, Marcus Verres.

“Please, call me Marcus.”

When the meeting was done, she sat in her chair with the chitin mask in her hand as her council filed out, except for Sofija who stayed behind. The squidheads didn’t just bother her. She wanted to hunt them down and kill them. Not merely because they tried to kill her. People had tried to kill her before. It was their lack of respect for innocent lives and that made her furious. She also knew she was being a hypocrite about it. They had injured one boy, who had recovered completely. She burned down an entire city killing far more innocents. That didn’t even count how many were killed and raped when her men pillaged King’s landing. She had no right to be righteous. Angrily she tossed the mask from her.

“My liege,” said Sofija. “Lydia and I will watch you around the clock, and Barbas doesn’t really sleep. I know what he is, but he is sworn to protect you, and his senses are keen.”

<She’s got that right. I made an oath. No squidheads are going to get past me.>

Daenerys forced a smile. “Thank you. Both of you.” She pushed her anger down and took a deep cleansing breath. There was no use dwelling on the past. Redemption was a road with no end. All she could was to keep moving forward.

.oOo.

Three days later they were halfway way to Riften. Thanks to judicious use of Frostbite spells to cool the air, it was pleasant inside her command tent. Which was a good thing as this was likely to be a long meeting. They had just met Vignar on the road, and she had called her small council together to hear his report. Sofija, Camilla, Marcus Verres, and Faralda sat at the table with her. Lydia was standing guard by the tent flap and listening in.

Vignar stood in front of them to give his report. “So, let’s start with the obvious. Riften is rotten to the core. Take everything you’ve heard about it, double it, then double it again. The place stinks, literally and figuratively. Half the town is on dry land and half juts out over the lake. People empty their chamber pots directly into the lake and the shit just floats there. Then you have reek of dead fish coming from the fishery. I don’t know how anyone can stand it. They say you get used to the smell. I was there five days and I never got over it.”

Daenerys nodded her understanding. Vignar was spoiled. He was from Whiterun, the city that built upon a large flowing stream that flushed all the sewage away. Windhelm wasn’t that bad either. They had a working sewer system and forbade all large animals inside city limits. She understood that Winterhold stank in the summer, but the College had working sewers. Compared to Skyrim every city she had ever visited in Planetos stank. She would get used to the stink. She made a circular gesture with her hand for Vignar to continue.

“The rot goes deeper than the smell. The people are miserable. The main employers are the fisheries and the Black-Briar meadery, and they barely pay a living wage. There are beggars all over the streets. I had people approach me on the street and offer me skooma. The thieves are so arrogant they barely bother to hide. Jenassa and Torvar both made contact with the Thieves’ Guild the first day.”

“And how much progress did they make?” asked Daenerys. While the corruption in Riften obviously ran deep, Vignar could talk for hours. She needed details and not general complaints.

Vignar took a deep breath, nodded his head, and continued. “Jenassa has made more progress. They made contact through the same person, a Nord who goes by the name of Brynjolf. He’s the frontman for the Thieves Guild. Torvar got in as a head-cracker. He beats down people who don’t want to pay the guild’s protection money. Jenassa got in by helping frame an Argonian merchant for stealing and got him sent to jail. Maybe the only good thing I can say about the Thieves’ Guild is they try not to kill people. If they want someone out of the way, they just frame them for a crime and make sure they get caught.” Vignar shook his head. “They can get away with that because the damn Thieves’ Guild is in deep with Black-briars. Particularly, Maven Black-briar. She’s the matriarch of the clan. Torvar was flat out warned by some thug when he entered not to cross the Black-briars because they had connections not only with the Thieves’ Guild, but the Dark Brotherhood.”

Daenerys frowned at that accusation. The Dark Brotherhood was allegedly an order of assassins like the Faceless Men of Braavos. Maybe it was lies meant to impress and dissuade, but from what she heard the Dark Brotherhood were nothing but cold-blooded murderers. “And where does the jarl stand on all this?”

“Laila Law-Giver?” Vignar snorted in derision. “Lawgiver, my ass. I don’t know if she’s Laila the Corrupt, or Laila the Foolish, or Laila the Spineless. About the only good thing about her is that she backs the Stormcloaks. That made it easy for me to get dinner invitations by playing on the Grey-mane name. Although I’m sure being a Companion didn’t hurt. So, I had an open invitation to join her court for meals. She’s useless. Maven is the real power in Riften. Not that she outright admits it. She’s a canny bitch. Brags about her importance but doesn’t reveal much. However, the jarl revealed everything with how she acted. She kept looking to Maven for approval.” He shook his head in disgust. “She’s a grown woman with two children. From the way she acts, Maven is her best friend and most trusted advisor. I just can’t tell why. Maybe she’s weak-willed. Maybe she’s bought. Who knows, maybe they’re lovers. Maven is pretty well put together, but the jarl doesn’t break wind without asking Maven first.”

Daenerys frowned. “I can think of other reasons. Blackmail. She can’t handle her drink. Her children are being held hostage. Riften is in debt, and Maven floated the jarl a loan… You know, based on what you said about the general poverty of Riften that last one sounds rather likely. She wouldn’t be the first ruler to run up a debt they simply couldn’t pay off. Maybe if I talked to her I could figure it out.”

Vignar pulled out a scroll and offered it to her. “Looks like you get your wish. When I told her you would be coming she wanted me to hand-deliver this invitation.”

Daenerys checked the seal, broke the wax, and read the scroll:

> Lady Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Dragonborn. 
> 
> I am honored that you and the Dragonguard have come to Riften. I have heard much of your deeds from your fellow Companion, Vignar Grey-mane. I am aware that you have done me and Riften a great service in defeating the dragon Loknosdov. I welcome you and the Dragonguard to come to Riften. I am afraid we don’t have accommodations for all your men within the walls of Riften, but you are welcome to camp just outside the city gates. I also invite you and your officers to stay with me and my family at Mistveil Keep for as long as you remain in Riften.
> 
> Signed this Morndas, the 29th of Midyear, Year 402 of the 4th Era
> 
> Jarl Laila Law-Giver

“Interesting. It looks she invited all of us to stay with her, but she wants me to leave the rest of the Dragonguard camped outside.” Daenerys passed the scroll to Camilla so she could read it. “So, the jarl keeps deferring to Maven Black-Briar. Did she say anything about the Thieves’ Guild or the rest of the corruption?”

Vignar shrugged. “She claimed that she really wants to see the Thieves’ Guild stamped out, but every time she has moved on them, she’s found nothing. That’s an enormous pile of mammoth droppings. It didn’t take Torvar and Jenassa long to discover that there is a tavern of sorts set up in the sewers. They call it the Ragged Flagon. Not everyone who goes there is a thief, but most of them are. If they could find that out in two days, then it isn’t that big a secret.”

Marcus Verres shook his head in disapproval. “And it only took them two days?! That’s not hidden, that means it’s an open secret. People have to know about. Even if the rats would scamper, they would be bound to catch some if they raided it. The only time corruption gets that bad is when people in power allow it to happen.”

Vignar sighed. “I agree with you! It’s shameful. I’m just telling you like it is. The rot goes all the way up to Maven, but I’m sure most of the guard is on the take. Although, the Thieves’ Guild has another asset that makes it hard to move on them. They have a woman who calls herself a face-sculptor. I don’t know how she does it, but Jenassa and Torvar both confirmed that she can mold someone’s face the way a potter does clay. It means even if they get caught, they just pay her and get a new face. It makes me wonder if their frontman, Brynjolf, isn’t a single person at all, just a position. If they can change their faces at any time - ”

“How much does she charge?” interrupted Faralda.

Daenerys glanced at her friend and mentor. She knew that being scarred bother her friend and mentor greatly. Sometimes it seemed that only the goal of learning Shout-based magic kept Faralda going. Unfortunately, Faralda had suffered one disappointment after another while chasing that dream. Her last hope seemed to rely upon finding the Horn of Jurgen Stormcaller, and all that the Greybeards had said was that it was buried in a tomb ‘somewhere north.’ Maybe they could find a clue in the College of Winterhold, but Faralda’s dream had turned into a mirage, always leading her onward, but never getting closer. This face sculptor was unexpected and close by. No wonder Faralda was eager.

“Her fees are steep,” replied Vignar. “1000 septims minimum, but I suspect the Thieves’ Guild gets a discount.”

“We’ll need to find out more about her,” said Daenerys. “There has to be a reason that person with a skill like that is hiding in a sewer in Riften.” She looked over to her mentor. “I’m willing to pay for your restoration just to get an introduction to her, but we’ll talk more about her later. Vignar, please continue.”

“So… like I was saying, the face sculptor may explain why they can be so open in recruiting. This Brynjolf probably changes faces frequently. They put potential candidates to the test, make them do something illegal, and see how they handle themselves.” He looked over to Marcus. “Also, about your point about them being too obvious. Jenassa has a theory. She’s certain that there are secret passageways throughout the sewers, and the Ragged Flagon is a decoy. Something they can afford to lose in a raid while the true thieves scurry like rats for shelter.”

“That makes sense,” agreed Daenerys. While on the surface it sounded like the Thieves’ Guild had terrible security, they had a layered defense. Not everyone at who drank at the Ragged Flagon was a thief, and even known thieves could change faces. If she was Jarl of Riften, she still would have shut the tavern down, but it wasn’t her problem. “So, any luck at locating an honest thief in that mess?”

“Yes…” Vignold looked uncomfortable. “I’ll get to her a moment. Let me finish the rest of Riften because she’s a conversation in and of herself.”

Daenerys waved a hand in permission. “Go on then.”

“Almost done. While Riften is a midden heap, there are some people making waves that might make good allies. One of them is Mjoll the Lioness. She’s not a mercenary. She styles herself an adventuress. She makes her living killing bandits. She’s taken it upon herself to clear out Riften. I saw her punch out a man who was threatening her to back off with a single blow. Pow! To the jaw and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. I think she is likely to be framed for something and thrown in jail. She even knows it. She just doesn’t back down. I think she is Companion material. She’d probably jump at joining the Dragonguard if you help her clean up Riften.”

Daenerys frowned at that. She wasn’t going to Riften to clean it up. She wanted to buy supplies, possibly locate an honest thief, and it was halfway to Fort Dawnguard. Just because Riften had problems didn’t mean that she had to fix them. Her job was to kill Al-Du-In and save the world. She was not responsible for personally saving everyone in Skyrim.

Vignar kept on talking without pause. “The second person is Aringoth. He is a minor noble, but he owns Goldenglow Estate. It’s a surprisingly large estate scattered across three islands in the middle of Lake Honrich. It is also a rather profitable estate. Their main product is honey, but they also grow flowers both the decorative kind and those used in potions. Now, you need honey to make mead, and Aringoth’s biggest customer is the Black-Briar Meadery owned by Maven Black-Briar. Apparently, Aringoth got tired of paying the Thieves’ Guild protection money recently. He hired on a bunch of mercenaries to protect his estate. He also started sending an armed escort to protect every shipment. The Thieves’ Guild is pissed because he stopped paying protection. To pay for the mercenaries, he upped his prices, so Maven is also pissed. The Thieves’ Guild already tried to ‘send Aringoth a message’ once. They sent someone to sneak in, burn a few beehives, steal some stuff, and generally terrorize Aringoth. Whoever they sent got spanked. They tapped Jenassa to try again. She took the job, but she’s stalling waiting for your orders. It’s all over Riften that the Dragonborn and the Dragonguard are coming. So, she’s told them she’s going wait to use your arrival as a distraction.”

“I see.” At least she understood how Aringoth could be an ally if she wanted to clean up Riften. He was opposed to Maven, but she wasn’t planning to clean up Riften. “So, anything else?”

Vignar shook his head. “That just leaves the thief.” Vignar paused to drink a few gulps of wine. “She calls herself Karliah.”


	24. Chapter 24

# Chapter 22

Morndas, the 27th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys studied Vignar Grey-mane. The man loved to talk as his colorful report on the wonderful city of Riften had clearly demonstrated, yet now that the conversation turned to Karliah he was strangely hesitant. “So… how did you meet this Karliah?”

“Well, I didn’t want to stay in the jarl’s manor because Jenassa and Torvar wouldn’t have been able to reach me that way, at least not without being noticed. So, I took an upstairs room at the largest inn in Riften, the Bee and Barb. I didn’t just lock the door to my room. I hung bells on the doorknob on the inside, and I made a little tower out of plates and mugs behind the door. I have no clue how she managed to open the door without making a sound, but I woke up with her sitting down on my bed. She said she wanted to talk.”

Daenerys nodded slowly. Now Vignar’s hesitation was explained. She would be equally disturbed after waking up with a stranger in her bed. The squidskulls weren’t the first assassins to target her, nor would they be the last. She knew that most thieves, spies, and assassins lacked skill. They were merely bold or desperate enough to steal and betray. Others, like Varys's little birds, were merely being used. Most of the assassins that had tried to kill her had simply been hired knives. Yet, some had been competent. What Vignar described of the Thieves' Guild of Riften didn’t sound that competent, and yet they hadn’t been shut down.

Karliah was something else altogether. She had opened a cleverly trapped door without making a sound. That brought to mind tales she had heard of thieves, spies, and assassins both skilled and magical. The Faceless Men were feared across Essos. In Tamriel they had similar boogeymen, the Dark Brotherhood. She knew it was a contradiction in terms, but she had hoped to find a trustworthy thief. It appeared she had made contact with a dangerous one. She couldn't help but be suspicious. While the quiet competence of Karliah was the complete opposite of the brazen and suicidal direct assault of the two squidheads, she obviously had the skills required of a master assassin.

“I see,” said Daenerys. “Apparently my housecarls insisting on having guards watching over me at all times is not misplaced. Vignar, I owe you an apology. I sent you after wolves. You ran into a bear. I'm glad she just wanted to talk, shield-brother.”

“So am I,” agreed Vignar with a fragile laugh. “It happens, shield-sister. I hear that on your first mission you got sent out for wolves and found a whole Falmer nest. There are much better ways to wake up with a strange girl in my bed, but I survived.”

Marcus Verres and Sofija found this funny and laughed.

Daenerys didn't think it was clever or funny. This Karliah could have easily slit Vignar's throat or robbed him blind. Vignar had clearly understood the implied threat. That’s why he was laughing it off with typical Nord bravado. Daenerys fought to keep from scowling. Karliah had opened with a threat. It was a tactic she was very familiar with using herself. During her early years as a ruler, she had often led by proudly displaying her three dragons. Looking back that had been a mistake. To be fair, when she had been starting out, she had little but the threat of her dragons to rely upon. She had also hadn’t known any better. Eventually, she had learned not to lead with threats. While threats might cow enemies into submission, threats did not make allies into friends. She had also learned never to make a threat that she was not fully prepared to follow through. In her later years of ruling, she had grown wiser and held her dragons back when negotiating. The mere fact of their existence was threat enough. Karliah was too skilled to be inexperienced. So, was she desperate or fully prepared to follow-through?

“Oh well, she doesn’t know what she missed out on. I’m like a fine brandy. I’ve improved with age.” Vignar chuckled at his own joke and continued his story. “Karliah had a Dunmer accent, but she used a hooded lantern to shine a light in my face while leaving her own in shadow, so I can't swear to her race, or even give any kind of description except that she was a tall and skinny woman. Then she described both Jenassa and Torvar to me. She asked who I was working for and what we wanted from the Thieves’ Guild. I decided that, under the circumstances, truth was the best option. I told her that I was with the Dragonguard, and that killing dragons doesn't pay our bills, so we clear out bandits and old Nord barrows for money. She laughed when I said you wanted us to find an honest thief in Riften to deal with the traps and locks. She said that if she wanted to steal from people honestly, she’d be a noble, a merchant, or a tax collector.”

Camilla made a sputtering noise at that. “Tax collector I can understand, but there is a world of difference between driving a hard bargain and stealing. Even Lady Targaryen haggles. She’s quite good at it.”

“Peace, Camilla,” commanded Daenerys. Vignar’s news was too important to get distracted by jokes and bickering. “Let him finish his story.”

“There’s not much more to tell,” said Vignar. “She wants to meet with you one-on-one.”

“Well that’s not going to happen,” said Sofija.

Daenerys frowned briefly at anyone else making decisions for her. However, she was trying to encourage Sofija to come out from behind her shadow. This was a step in the right direction and should be supported. “Sofija is correct. You probably haven’t heard yet, Vignar, but I was attacked by two assassins in Ivarstead. I don’t think Karliah is working with them, but I would need a compelling reason to meet alone with a mysterious stranger. I will be glad to meet with her privately, but I will have at least my housecarls with me. Where and when does she want to meet?”

“She just said that she’d be in touch.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll be falling asleep easily tonight. Can’t even drink properly if I might be woken up for a midnight chat, but maybe I’ll get at least a kiss out of it this time.”

“We’ll set a guard on your tent, Vignar.” She saw he was about to object. “Not just for your safety. It will say something about her skills if she can get past guards.”

“We should increase the guards around your tent as well, my thane,” said Sofija. “It only takes a sharp knife to make another door into a tent.”

Daenerys shook her head. “Lydia is already standing watch outside with four guards. Barbas is watching inside with Faralda, you, and my servants sharing my tent. Barbas only pretends to sleep. That’s more than enough security on my tent. We’re marching long hours. The men need rest, too.”

Sofija nodded her agreement. “As you say, my thane.”

Marcus Verres cleared his throat before speaking. “Can we back up a bit? You doubted that she was working with the squidskulls. Why? Vignar said she was a Dunmer. That’s a connection.”

Daenerys shook her head. “We don’t know for certain that she is a Dunmer. Vignar did not see her face and accents can be faked. To answer your question, their methods are completely different. Whoever is behind the squidskulls has power. He, or she, is bold and direct, but also wasteful. The men who attacked were loyal unto death. It takes power to attract the kind of loyalty that people will throw their lives away for you. Possibly religious power, because they acted like zealots. However, they were mages, so I would guess secular. It’s also arrogant and wasteful to send mages like that. Karliah was completely different: cautious, professional, skilled. She’s a planner. These thieves in Riften call themselves a guild, and they show cunning with their layered defenses. A guild has a guildmaster. I would venture to guess that Karliah is either the guildmaster herself or she reports directly to him.”

“Huh,” said Vignar. “That sounds plausible. So, you think these two… squidskulls? are working for Maven Black-briar then.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know if she commands that kind of loyalty, but you did say that Torvar got threatened with the Dark Brotherhood if he crossed Maven. Maybe she merely has the money and the contacts to hire fanatical assassins. Isn’t there a group of Dunmer assassins?”

“The Morag Tong,” said Faralda. “But they’re nothing like the squidskulls. The Morag Tong are part of Dunmer culture. The great houses of Morrowind are always fighting among each other. Sanctioned assassinations are a way to keep the fighting from escalating to open warfare. They post writs and the target knows about the writ. It’s very formalized. They are also supposed to stay within Morrowind, not that they haven’t gone outside if the money is good enough. However, they’re professionals, not fanatics.”

“Thank you, Faralda. Regardless of who they are, both Karliah and the squidheads made the same mistake. I don’t like people trying to kill me, and I don’t take kindly to threats. Not to me. Not to my people.”

“Um, my thane?” asked Sofija. “Could that be Karliah’s intent? To provoke you?”

“Possibly, but that doesn’t feel right…” It took a bit to sort through what her intuition was telling her. “She’s highly skilled. If her goal was simply to provoke me, I think she could have done so without revealing her existence. No, she wanted to talk. I think they Thieves’ Guild and Maven probably think the same thing that Vignar does, that I plan on cleaning up Riften.”

“We’re not?” asked Camilla looking lost. “I mean, isn’t that why you sent spies?”

“No,” said Daenerys firmly. “I would prefer to just pass through Riften. The problems plaguing Riften are deep and entrenched. Even if I crushed the Thieves’ Guild, exposed the Black-briar family, and replaced the jarl, it would only start to fix Riften’s problems. As soon as the Dragonguard moved on someone else would move in and the cycle would start over. Believe me, I know. When I conquered Meereen, I thought I could simply free all the slaves by right of conquest. It took years and the assistance of the Red Temple to bring stability to Dragon’s Bay. I don’t have a few years to fix Riften.”

Marcus shook his head. “Someday, I really want to hear about these conquests of yours that you just casually toss out like setting a fox among the chickens.” He sighed. “However, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we believed you had some great plan you were holding back to fix Riften. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t think that in Riften as well. I think we might end up in a mess regardless of what you want. By now everyone in Riften knows you’re coming. They’re probably all expecting you to do your hero thing. If I were a thief or a Black-briar, I’d be pretty nervous about now. Nervous people do foolish things.”

Daenerys frowned. Marcus was right. She could say she was just passing through Riften until she was out of breath, but apparently no one would believe it. The gods didn’t even need to meddle. Human nature would cause enough trouble on its own. Maybe she should have brought her entire army instead of leaving half the Dragonguard behind in Ivarstead.

.oOo.

Daenerys was awakened in the night by Barbas barking and growling. Faralda lit up the tent by conjuring magelight. When her eyes adjusted, she saw that Aana and Raina were huddling together shaking in fear while Sofija stood naked in a crouch with a conjured sword in each hand. “Barbas? Why the barking?”

<There was a woman near the tent, not one of your guards. Dunmer by her scent. Probably Karliah.>

“Dunmer female outside,” Daenerys relayed to Sofija. “Armor up and we’ll see if Barbas can follow her trail.”

Sofija bowed. “Yes, my thane.”

Raina hobbled over still not dressed herself. “I’ll help you, m’lady.” Despite her obvious fear from being awoken by a possible assassin, her handmaiden didn’t hesitate to assist her. Raina worked quickly and efficiently helping Daenerys don her skysteel plate armor.

Daenerys made a point to meet her handmaiden’s eyes. “Thank you, Raina. Get dressed and keep Aana company. We’ll be back shortly one way or another.” While the girl wasn’t a fighter, she was a survivor, and she was still with her after facing a dragon attack. Raina was certainly devoted. Daenerys wondered if the face sculptor in Riften could heal Raina’s broken ankle. One session with the faceshaper would cost as much as a good horse, but it was something to consider. She pushed that idea aside and left the tent. As she did Faralda fell into place on her left and Sofija on her right. The camp was awake and soldiers marching about in organized patterns searching the camp.

Lydia thumped her armor in salute. “We didn’t hear anyone, so we don’t know what happened.”

“Barbas smelled a Dunmer woman closeby.”

“From inside the tent?” asked Lydia.

<I had my nose poking out from under the tent,> explained Barbas as he ran around sniffing the ground. He paused for a moment, gave a happy bark, and then headed toward the perimeter of the camp. <I got her scent now!>

“So, she did make it past our sentries and into camp?” asked Daenerys.

“Yes,” woofed Barbas with his nose still to the ground. Once they passed the camp boundary, he led them in the direction of the woods they had passed through the previous day.

Daenerys followed after Barbas along with Faralda, Sofija, Lydia, and quite a few others joining them. She wasn’t that surprised that the trail led into the woods. The field they camped in had some low bushes and long grass, but nowhere to hide from a determined search. Especially with Faralda casting magelight frequently at any potential hiding places. Daenerys considered telling Faralda to back off, but the intruder had already kicked the hornet’s nest. The entire Dragonguard was marching around with torches. At least magelight lit up their way so they weren’t stumbling in the dark.

Once they entered the woods, Barbas led them through the trees for a short distance before he paused. He shook his head and then sneezed. <Damn that evil bitch to Oblivion! She used hound’s bane.>

“What is hound’s bane?” asked Daenerys. She had a pretty good idea based on the name and the way Barbas kept snorting and shaking his head.

“Just what it sounds like,” said Aela speaking up for the first time. “It’s a mix of strong-smelling liquids you scatter along your path to throw off dogs, wolves, or any animal that tracks by scent. Ground peppers and other common herbs can be used, but there are potions as well.”

<The bitch used a potion. It smells like skunk and ice peppers with magic in the mix.> He rubbed his snout on the grass as if trying to rub out the hound’s bane.

Daenerys sighed. “If Barbas can’t track her any longer, we’re not going to find her like this. Everyone, you did good. You chased her off before she could do any harm. We’ve spent enough of our night chasing the wind. Back to bed everyone.” Then she looked at Aela, deliberately pointed a finger at her and then gestured into the woods ahead of them.

Aela nodded and smiled. She faded into the woods and continued the search while the rest of them noisily returned to camp.

.oOo.

Aela showed up the next morning as they were breaking camp to report. It took a lot to break Aela’s composure, but the Huntress was clearly agitated. “Shield-sister, I have news.”

Daenerys glanced around. Breakfast was done and everyone was bustling about taking down tents and preparing to set forth. “Walk with me, shield-sister.” She led Aela away from the camp and the woods through a field of tall grass that came up to her thighs.

Sofija and Lydia trailed after them staying far enough back to allow a private conversation. Barbas stayed by her side.

Daenerys glanced at Barbas, but he was doing what he had sworn to do, guarding her. Then she looked to Aela. “What is this news that has you so upset?”

Aela folded her arms under her breasts and scowled. “Karliah caught me. After you returned to camp, I went deeper into the woods and changed form. I circled around where she used the hound’s bane and picked up her trail. It was easy. That’s the problem with hound’s bane. If a wolf or dog gets a strong whiff of it, then it will clog their nose. However, hound’s bane has a powerful scent, and it can cling to the one who used it. That means if you’re careful, you can follow the scent of the hound’s bane itself. It’s tricky, but I was managing it. She still left a difficult trail, backtracking, branching. I lost it a few times and picked it back up. Then she made it to a stream, and I lost her trail. The wolf was fading and dawn was approaching, so I headed back to report in. I reverted to human a little after the sun rose.” She scowled again. “Karliah must have been following me the whole time. She shot me in the ass with an arrow!”

Daenerys had to force herself to keep a straight face. Aela’s outrage accompanied by her obviously being alive and healthy made it hard not to laugh. Especially when Barbas was making the broken barking sound that passed as his laughter. This was serious. Karliah was a potential threat. She pushed down her mirth and focused on the details. “I see that you’re not limping.”

“She gave me a healing potion. After she tied me up, which wasn’t hard for her to do because the arrow had poison on it. Whatever she used, it left me weak and unable to move for a short while. Not all that long, but long enough for her to bind my wrists and ankles.” Aela sighed. “Then we talked.”

Picturing Aela tied helpless and naked drained the humor away. Karliah was attacking and threatening her people. “You know, I’m getting rather tired of Karliah’s methods of starting a conversation. If she wanted to talk, she should have just asked.”

“I said much the same to her… after I calmed down. I said a lot of other things before that.” Aela paused for a breath and then continued. “Karliah apologized. She claimed to be impressed we kept her out. Her excuse was that she wanted to ‘take your measure,’ but she took things too far.”

“Including shooting you in the ass. You were already heading back. She could have as easily shot an arrow with a note or something.” Hmm, was that a pattern? Was Karliah showing off instead of trying to intimidate? Or was there some deeper plan? “I’m missing something. Is making threats a Dunmer thing? I certainly agree she has gone too far. What exactly is it she wants?”

“She said she wants to talk,” replied Aela. “But, not just anywhere. She wanted you to come to her alone and have a private conversation.”

“The time to do that was before she threatened Vignar, before she snuck into camp at night, and before she shot you. Now, she wants to talk?”

Aela gave a sharp jerk of her head in agreement. “Exactly! Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is a Dunmer thing. They are more open about threatening each other. Like their assassins, the Morag Tong, only taking writs where the victim knows they’re coming. Regardless, now she wants to talk to you alone. I told her that wouldn’t happen, especially not after two Dunmer tried to kill you in Ivarstead. She didn’t know about that. So, she made a counteroffer. She offered her own son, Galdrus, as a hostage to your safety.”

“Did she now?” That was interesting, but was it true? “And how do we know that this person is truly her son?”

“I met him. He’s young. I’m not good with Dunmer ages, but he looks like he’s just a teenager to me. His face bears her features including a very distinctive one. They both have eyes just as purple as yours.”

“Hmm, I’ve heard people say that I have mer eyes. Is purple common among Dunmer?” It wasn’t like she had met many Dunmer.

Aela shrugged. “I don’t know many Dunmer. The ones I have seen all had various shades of red, so purple isn’t that common. All three of you have very vivid purple eyes. It stands out, and not just that. The way Karliah and Galdrus acted together, especially when she told him that he would be a hostage for your safety, it felt real. He looked betrayed and then determined.”

“I see.” Honestly, she was getting tired of this. “And if I was willing to go speak to her alone, not that I have agreed to it, where would we do this hostage exchange?”

“Galdrus is waiting just inside the woods. If I return and tell him to follow me, then he will.”

“Hmm.” Now wasn’t that interesting? “Go get Galdrus then. I think that I will start by talking to him. Just to make sure there are no misunderstandings, bring him in under a flag of truce.”

.oOo.

The flag of truce was a good precaution. Galdrus received a lot of hard looks from the Dragonguard as he was escorted into camp. One man spat at him and was immediately taken to task by Marcus Verres. Daenerys wasn’t surprised by the hostility. Two Dunmer had tried to kill her at Ivarstead, and the whole camp knew someone had snuck past the sentries last night. Daenerys had her command tent set up again to interview Galdrus, but before she could interview him Barbas came running up to her.

<Hey, we need to talk before you interrogate our guest.>

Daenerys went down on one knee and scratched Barbas behind the ears. He reacted better when she treated him like a dog, and it let her talk quietly, so they weren’t overhead. “What about?”

<The Dunmer kid, Galdrus, he’s one of Nocturnal’s.>

“The Daedric Princess of Night and Darkness?” That put a different spin on things. “I suppose it makes sense that he worships Nocturnal. He’s either a thief, a spy, or an assassin.”

<Probably a thief or spy. Nocturnal loves them and anyone who spends their lives hiding in shadows. Assassins, not so much. They belong to Sithis. Or maybe Mephala playing at being Sithis. Even Vile and I aren’t sure about that, but that’s beside the point. Nocturnal is more about mystery than murder. And he’s more than a worshiper. I couldn’t tell if someone just worshiped Nocturnal. He’s got to be something more.>

“More? You mean he is a priest of Nocturnal?”

Barbas pressed his head up into her hand directing her scratching to behind his ears. <Oh yeah, right there. Where was I? Maybe a priest, but Nocturnal doesn’t care that much for worship. If he was a priest, he would have to be a strong one. More likely he’s one of her Nightingales.>

“Okay, so what is a Nightingale?”

<Means she gave him a bit of her power. Not sure exactly what gifts. I’ve known her followers to be so good at sneaking I can’t find them, others could drain the life from someone, or step into shadows and step out someplace else. Anyway, the point is you might not be able to hold him.>

“Does this mean Nocturnal herself is involved?”

Barbas made the hacking bark sound that he called laughter. <About as likely as finding a drunk in bar.>

“Is there a reason that I’m running into so many Daedric Princes and their agents? Do you know what they want from me?”

<Hey, it’s not just the Daedra. The Aedra are involved, too. Do you think Talos smiles down on everyone who asks nicely? Or that a dragon got put in a human body without Akatosh being involved?>

“I notice that you did not answer the question.” Daenerys extended her rubbing farther down his neck. “Why are they all meddling in my affairs?”

<Says the woman who just got crowned Ysmir.> Barbas’s tail started wagging furiously. <Oh… lots of reasons. You’ve got that whole doom-driven hero thing. You’re a dov. Fate is wrapped around you. When you do something, what is and what might be get up and dance.> He gave a sudden shake. <And there’s the whole end of the world thing. Most of us would rather see this world keep going.>

“Most?” she asked. “Some gods want the world to end?”

<Not so much want, as don’t care too much if it ends or not. Some Princes would rather tip over the whole board than lose.>

“Is Nocturnal one of those?”

<Not her style. She’s too aloof to throw a tantrum. She just wants a turn playing with the most interesting toy on the board.>

Daenerys frowned at that characterization, but she could use that to her advantage as well. She had already. Barbas was proof of that. “So, what would Nocturnal want from me?”

<I don’t know. She’s always mysterious. I’ll warn you to be careful. Clavicus Vile likes to make deals. Nocturnal likes oaths. Be careful you don’t sell your soul. If you sign your soul to her of your own free will, it will be binding.>

She knew that, but it was already too late. She’d already made a deal with Hircine. “Thank you, Barbas.” She gave him one last rub and then stood up. “I’d better go see what Galdrus has to say now.”

<Wait,> called Barbas after her. <One more thing. If you plan to meet Nocturnal, I shouldn’t come along. My master and Nocturnal had a backstabbing party a few centuries back. I might have been a bit involved. Nothing too unusual for Daedric Princes, but Nocturnal doesn’t like me. Not like I could protect you from her anyway. I have only a fraction of my master’s power.>

That was interesting information about his limits. Food for thought. Later. She gave him a parting scratch behind the ears. “Thank you, Barbas, for the warnings.” She walked into the tent and found Galdrus being watched by both her housecarls and Aela. The tent was mostly empty of furnishings, but there was a folding chair and a small table waiting for her. Someone, probably Raina, had even left her a goblet of wine. She sat down and took a casual sip of the wine before getting started.

Galdrus held himself well, but it was obvious that he was still a lad. If he were human, she would judge him to be about fourteen or fifteen. Since he was Dunmer, he was probably a decade older, but he likely still had the maturity of a human teenager. He was clearly a mer with pointed ears, a sharp nose and chin, but his features were softer than most mer which hinted at a human father. His auburn hair was cut to irregular lengths falling about his shoulders giving it a rough look, but it was clear that he took great care of it. His black leather armor almost seemed to fade into the shadows of the room, but his bright purple eyes stood out.

Daenerys sat her wine down. “Well, Galdrus, I’ve heard Aela’s side of things. Why don’t you tell me yours?”

“There is not much that I can tell,” he replied. He met her eyes briefly and then looked down. “You’ll have to ask Karliah.” He folded his arms. “Even if you torture me, I won’t say anything!”

While he no doubt thought he was being stalwart and resolute, he just looked so young and naive to her eyes. Had she ever been that young? “Very well, if you have nothing to say, then you may go. I won’t break a truce. Tell your mother that we won’t be so lenient if she tries to sneak into my camp again.”

“You’re not going to talk to her?” asked Galdrus. The confusion on his face was plain to see.

Daenerys shook her head. “I’m afraid your mother overestimates your value. I really don’t care about these games that the two of you are playing except that you stop playing them with me and the Dragonguard. I have nothing to gain by talking to Karliah.”

Galdrus frowned for a long while. “This is a just a ploy to get me to talk.”

“No,” replied Daenerys. She stood up. Annoyingly, Galdrus was taller than her even if he was still a boy. “I don’t have time for games,” she said firmly. “You and your mother have given me no reason to trust you and every reason to distrust you. If Karliah wants to talk with me about something, and not just sneak around and attack my people, then she can find me. I’ll be the one marching to Riften surrounded by two dozen armed men. I don’t think she’ll have a difficult time following our trail. Goodbye.” She turned to Aela. “Escort him back to the woods and return to me.”

Aela immediately grabbed Galdrus by the arm.

“Wait!” Galdrus cried as he struggled futilely against Aela’s grip. “We can help you!”

Daenerys arched an eyebrow. “Really? I doubt it. Speak plainly and quickly. You’ve already held up today’s march.”

“We have the same enemies. My mother wants to take down the Thieves’ Guild just like you do. That’s why she wants to meet with you to work out an alliance.”

So Karliah wasn’t with the Thieves’ Guild? If that was true, it was surprising. She certainly acted like a thief. “And she couldn’t just come to me and say that?”

“She was going to. That’s why she was trying to sneak into your tent.”

“And just walking up and saying hello never crossed her mind?” She waved at Aela. “Let him go. He at least is talking now.” She turned back to Galdrus. “And what does your mother have to offer me?”

Galdrus frowned. “Information. About the Thieves’ Guild. Who are the real members, who they’ve bribed, where to find them, and more. I won’t tell you details. You’ll have to ask her.”

“And why should I trust either of you?” demanded Daenerys.

“There will be oaths. They’re binding, but that’s why you must meet her. The oaths can only be made in a certain place.”

And there were the oaths that Barbas had warned her against. “Must? I’ll be the judge of what I must do. These oaths, can they only be made at a certain place, or in front of a certain being?”

Galdrus tried to hide it, but the shock on his face was clear. “I’ve said enough.”

“Oh?” she asked with fake innocence. “But you haven’t told me where to go to meet Karliah.”

“My thane!” objected Lydia. “You can’t be thinking of going alone.”

“I am considering it. I may go if it isn’t too far out of my way.” Her advisors would object, but in the end they were her advisors, and it was her decision. She wasn’t sure what to make of Karliah, but apparently she was only the intermediary. The invitation was actually from Nocturnal, and that was something else entirely.


	25. Chapter 23

# Chapter 23

Tirdas, the 28th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Karliah wanted to meet her alone at a standing stone known as the Shadow Stone after the sun went down. The location was suspiciously convenient, just one full-days march down the road toward Riften and they should reach the ravine that led to the standing stone. Daenerys wasn’t surprised that her small council wasn’t happy about the idea of her meeting Karliah alone. They were mostly mollified when she explained her plan in more detail. She would not travel alone. She would take an escort most of the way. Her escort would stay behind once they sighted the Shadow Stone. That way she would keep to Karliah’s conditions to meet her alone, but help would only be a Shout away. Ultimately, it wasn’t their choice, but she did listen to their concerns. The most useful suggestion came from Camilla who urged her to at least take a sleeping potion so she could sleep through the day’s journey and be fully rested for that night.

Daenerys took Camilla’s advice. When the sleeping potion wore off, they had already made camp for the day. Nothing important had happened while she slept. She finished her meal, donned her armor, and set forth with a small party: Lydia, Faralda, Val, and Vignar with Aela and Barbas scouting ahead. The path up the ravine was steep, crooked, and rocky, but little more than a casual stroll compared to climbing the Throat of the World. They reached the Shadow Stone after a short climb. Aela and Barbas returned to give their scouting report. As far as Aela could tell only one person had disturbed the trail recently. Barbas confirmed that a Dunmer female had taken the path. He had also so circled downwind of the Shadow Stone and reported no one else but her around.

“Thank you both. I didn’t think she was leading me into an ambush, but it pays to be cautious.” She looked over her followers. “I go on from here. Make camp and don’t panic if I don’t come back immediately. If I’m not back by morning, come and get me.” Which would be in less than five hours given the short summer nights in Skyrim. Not that long, but still long enough to get in trouble.

Val gave her a serious nod. Lydia scowled. Barbas jumped up and licked her face.

Vignar clasped arms with her. “Be alert shield sister.”

Aela clasped arms as well. She gave a significant glance at the moon. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, but if you call, I will come.”

Daenerys walked the short distance to the Shadow Stone alone. The name was something of a misnomer. It wasn’t a single monolith. Instead, there was one large standing stone surrounded by a circle of stones. She noticed that the constellation of the Thief was just above the circle of stones as she made her final approach. It felt less like an omen and more like the gods were playing games with her again. Apparently, it was Nocturnal’s turn to play.

Daenerys didn’t see any sign of Karliah, but the circle of standing stones gave her plenty of places to hide and it didn’t take a master of stealth to hide on a dark night. “Karliah. I’m tired of the games. Come on out and tell me what you want.”

“Bold words, Lady Targaryen,” came a voice from very close behind her.

Daenerys spun around to discover herself nose to nose with a woman who had to be Karliah. The word **Iiz** was on the tip of her tongue, and she almost Shouted it at the woman who startled her.

Karliah was a dark-skinned woman and much younger than Daenerys expected. If she was human, Daenerys would have put her in her twenties, but she was a Dunmer with an almost grown child of her own, so she had to be much older than that. Her hair color was hard to judge by the light of the moon, most likely a reddish-brown like her son. She was attractive even by human standards, but her features were too sharp to be human: pointed nose and chin, sharp cheekbones, and ears that stuck out like knife blades. Aela was right about her eyes. Even in the moonlight they were obviously a vivid purple, just like her son’s eyes, and Daenerys’s own.

Daenerys focused on those purple eyes and let go of the Shout that she had almost released. She suppressed her anger and frustration at the games. “So, you’re Karliah. Interesting,” she commented in a nonchalant tone. “You and your son are the only people that I’ve met in Skyrim with purple eyes. In my homeland purple eyes are a sign of Targaryen blood.”

“It’s rare among Dunmer,” replied Karliah, “but not unheard of. Are we going to talk about our pretty eyes or about business?” She had a sharp no-nonsense tone to her speech.

Games, Daenerys reminded herself. Karliah liked having the upper hand. “If you’re finally willing to talk business, I’m listening. What is it that you and Nocturnal can offer me?”

Karliah’s eyes briefly widened in surprise before she controlled herself. “Whatever Mercer Frey may have told you, he does not speak for Nocturnal. You cannot trust him.”

“But I can trust you?” asked Daenerys.

“You can trust promises that are sealed by oaths, and this night I will take you to Nocturnal. She speaks for herself.”

“Hmm,” Daenerys watched Karliah for a few moments. She decided that she owed Barbas a big meaty bone for his warning. “Very well, since I am to speak to Nocturnal, we can skip the pleasantries. A warning before you lead me to your mistress. If I am not back by dawn, it is your son who will pay the price.”

If Karliah was worried, she gave no sign. She merely nodded her head. “Then follow me very closely. Don’t dawdle and don’t stray from the path. It is easy to get lost, and my son’s life depends on you not being foolish.” Karliah placed her hand on the central monolith. For a moment the surface of the monolith seemed to be replaced by the night sky with the constellation of the Shadow ascendant. Then the stars faded. Where there had once been a solid stone there was now a dark shadowy path. Karliah immediately stepped forward and started walking down the path.

Daenerys quickly followed Karliah. The path led in the direction of what had previously been a solid cliff but was now a dark ravine. As they entered the ravine, the high walls blocked the light of the moons, and they had only starlight to see by. Karliah was barely visible, just a slightly less dark presence in front of her. Karliah was most discernable by her movement even though her steps were silent and made not a sound. Daenerys reached out to either side, hoping to find the wall of the ravine to help guide her, but her hands touched nothing. She wondered if this was yet again another game being played by Karliah, but the thief had seemed serious. As their journey continued Daenerys had the feeling that they weren’t alone. It wasn’t a feeling of being watched. Instead, she had the sensation that they weren’t the only ones traveling this path. She had the eerie sensation that if she just stepped a little way off the path that she would walk into a stranger walking beside her. However, following Karliah was as difficult as following a black cat at night. Daenerys didn’t dare take her eyes off her guide.

Half a year ago in a room shrouded in darkness, she and Brelyna had traded secrets. In that conversation Brelyna had mentioned Shadow magic and that it was rumored to have the power to reach into other worlds. Daenerys had tried to research Shadow magic at the College of Winterhold, but she had found nothing but speculation. Shadow blades had definitely existed. They had the ability to leech the life of others. They could also step through shadows, but everything else was just conjecture. The books she read speculated about shadows being echoes of other worlds. That shadows could be manipulated. That what might be could change what is, what was, and what will be. She had written it off those tales as unreliable, but now following Karliah she had to wonder… If Shadow magic was real, then surely it fell under Nocturnal’s domain. Were the figures in the darkness shadows of herself and Karliah? If she dared step off the path, would she find herself in a different world altogether? Or would the shadows simply consume her?

The ground beneath her shifted from uneven ground to hard and level stone, and the shadows ahead started to lift. She could more clearly make out Karliah as a person rather than just a presence in the dark. With each step the way became clearer until they emerged into an enormous chamber lit by burning braziers. They were clearly underground; the roof was indistinct but present. The floor was paved with large stones. Ahead of them was a stairway leading up to another level. Daenerys glanced behind them and saw nothing but darkness. She quickly returned her eyes to Karliah and stopped just in time to avoid running into her.

Karliah turned to face her. She looked both pleased and amused. “Welcome, Lady Targaryen, to the Twilight Sepulcher, heart of Nocturnal’s power on Mundus, and home to the Nightingales. Few who have not dedicated their souls to the Night Mistress have ever set foot in these halls. Stay close to me. I am permitted here, and you are an invited guest, but there are guards. We will be challenged.”

Daenerys was impressed, but she did her best not to show it. “Lead on. If we are to return before dawn, we should not dawdle.”

“Very true,” agreed Karliah. “This way.” She turned and started up the steps.

Daenerys followed staying close. The stairs led up two or three stories before they leveled off. As they reached the top of the stairs a figure that Daenerys could only call a ghost stood before them. The figure was a man wearing leathers in the same style favored by Galdrus and Karliah, but his form seemed to be made of fog or mist because she could see right through him.

“Karliah,” spoke the ghostly man in a voice that sounded entirely normal. “You return with one that I sense is not one of us, nor is she garbed as an initiate. I love you dearly, but she may not pass.”

“I have done as I have been bidden by Lady Luck herself.” Karliah replied slowly as if merely speaking was a great effort to her. “This is Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragonborn. I’ve been commanded to bring her to Nocturnal.” Karliah reached into a pocket of her cloak and withdrew some kind of talisman on a chain. “Let us pass, Gallus, so I may avenge your death.”

The ghost didn’t budge. “You must give the token of Nocturnal’s favor to her. She must wear it, if she is to pass.”

“Very well.” Karliah turned back to face Daenerys. Where before she had been stoic and cocky, she was now looked upset. “Here. Put it on,” she snapped at Daenerys.

Daenerys took the item on a chain. It was long enough to be a necklace. She expected the figure to be a nightingale, but it was a raven instead. She slipped it over her head. “Done.”

“Now may we pass?” asked Karliah.

The ghostly figure nodded. “You may.” He stepped aside, but still watched them with crossed arms. “Karliah, how is my son?”

“He is fine, my love. He has grown into a strong man and followed in his father’s footsteps. He is a Nightingale now, like his father.”

“Like his mother,” said the ghost. “Mercer Frey?”

“He still lives, but not for much longer,” promised Karliah.

“Good,” replied the spirit, and he faded away as if he never was.

“Walk with the shadows, Gallus,” said Karliah to the darkness with the solemn finality of someone saying good-bye. One of her hands darted to her face, perhaps to wipe away a tear, not that Daenerys could tell from behind her.

"So, this is personal, then?" asked Daenerys.

Karliah turned back to face her. “Yes, it's personal.” She looked over Daenerys. “I thought you would be older. Funny that none of the stories about you ever mention how young you are. Have you ever had someone betray your trust? Or lost someone you love?”

Daenerys barked a bitter laugh. “Betrayal knows not age.” She hesitated, but Karliah had just had one of her secrets revealed and Brelyna had taught her that exchanging secrets was a powerful way to build connections with another. “Khal Drogo.” Even after all this time, just his name brought back memories. “My first husband, he was my sun and my stars. He was dying from an infected wound. Healing magic was rare in my homeland. Nor were potions so advanced. I turned to a witch, Mirri Maz Duur, to save him. I had protected and sheltered her. I trusted her. She told me there would be a price to heal him, a life for a life. I told her that I would pay her price. The cost was my unborn child. She did heal him, but only his body. He lived, but his soul was gone. There was nothing left of the powerful warrior I loved. Just a husk that still breathed air.”

“I apologize if I gave offense.” Karliah bowed slightly. “You are correct. Loss and betrayal know no age. What happened to the witch? Did you receive justice?”

“I claimed vengeance. I had Mirri Maz Duur bound to a pole atop my husband's funeral pyre, and I burned her alive. Whether it was justice?” Daenerys shrugged. “That's for the gods to decide.”

“Good for you. Perhaps you have a Dunmer heart to go with your eyes. Come on, we should keep moving.” She turned and headed down a corridor.

Daenerys followed Karliah into a dimly lit corridor. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all built from large stone blocks smoothed by the passage of time. The construction was different from the Nord barrows that Daenerys had visited. Except for the poor lighting, it reminded her of the interior of the great pyramid of Meereen. It felt like they were inside a building that just happened to be underground rather than inside a place that had been excavated. “If you can walk and talk at the same time, I would like to hear of Gallus and how Mercer Frey betrayed you both.”

“Hmm, I suppose you need to know. We don’t have time for the details, but I can give you the important parts. I came to Skyrim to join the Nightingales. It’s my legacy, handed down from generation to generation. The Shadow Stone is one of the few places in Tamriel where one can access the Twilight Sepulcher. After I became a Nightingale, I visited Riften. It was as corrupt back then as it is now, but even more chaotic. Gallus was the guildmaster for the Thieves’ Guild, but I caught him trying to pick my pocket. I joined the Guild the same day. Mercer was his best friend. We were inseparable the three of us. I offered them some training and got them inducted into the Nightingales. Those were the good days...”

As they continued Daenerys became aware of the scale of this place. It wasn’t just a corridor leading through the dark. They passed doorways, intersections, and crossed through large rooms. It was practically an underground city. Karliah had mentioned guardians, and Daenerys had the sense they were not alone, but she saw no one. As creepy as it was, it was a thousand times better than the shadowy path they had walked to get here. “So, what happened?”

“I don’t even really know. Part of it was that Mercer drifted into the fencing end of the business. It’s not always easy to unload stolen goods. A part of it was that Gallus and I were in love, and two young lovers prefer time alone. And then there was Maven Black-briar. Gallus and I thought it was a good thing that Mercer found his own lover, especially since she liked to play on both sides of the streets. As time went on Mercer spent less time thieving and more time aiding Maven with her schemes.

“However, we did have one project that brought the three of us together: the Eyes of the Falmer, two jewels described as each being larger than a man’s fist. Technically, it wasn’t even stealing to go after them. I believe you’re aware that there are no laws against looting abandoned ruins?”

Daenerys laughed. “I am. Exploring abandoned ruins and killing bandits is how I make my money these days.”

“High risk, high pay. I think every thief dreams of the ultimate heist. That one job that will set you up for life. The Eyes of the Falmer were our dream. We did a lot of work tracking them down. Stole some notes from an old fart of a wizard in Markarth. Blackmailed a linguist at the College of Winterhold to translate it for us. When we finally had the location, we returned to Riften to get Mercer. We had started the search together, and we intended to end it together…” Karliah sighed. “Not surprisingly for a Dwemer ruin, it was crawling with Falmer and charus. It’s hard to just sneak past those. Falmer can smell you, and the bugs swarm everywhere. We had to fight our way through to the statue. The damn eyes were just as huge as the legend. To make a long story short, Mercer betrayed us. He set off a trap intentionally that flooded the room and trapped us inside. He was carrying one of the eyes. I’m sure he planned for the trap to kill us both and then he’d get the other eye, but Lady Luck smiled on me. I had a potion of waterbreathing on me. I got sucked out through a drain and lived. Gallus didn’t make it.” Karliah stopped moving. “I went back for him. The Falmer found him first.”

And the Falmer were cannibals. “I’m surprised you waited this long for revenge.” She said it as gently as she could.

“I found that I was pregnant not long after I escaped. The child was all I had left of Gallus. I couldn’t drink Dibella’s Tears. I spent years raising Galdrus and waiting. So, now you know.” She took a deep breath. “Enough talking. We’re here.”

Here was a large circular chamber with a domed roof. Archways carved in the walls led off into shadowy tunnels. Images of Masser and Secunda in their various phases were carved on the floor in a circle depicting the monthly lunar cycle. A circular dais in the center of the room held a pool of what looked like a dark liquid that looked like liquid shadow. A circle of stone pillars curved like claws surrounded the pool.

Karliah strode up to the dais and halted outside the circle of claws. “I call upon you Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow. Hear my voice!”

“Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. I see you secured the personage we discussed.” The voice was that of a woman and the sound of her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

“As I promised. I have brought you Lady Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragonborn.”

“Indeed, you have.”

Even though the voice seemed to come from everywhere, Daenerys felt the weight of a presence shift to her. The presence seemed to come from just above the pool, even though there was nothing there.

“So, Daenerys, what do you have to offer me?”

Daenerys fixed her eyes on where Nocturnal’s presence appeared to be centered. This time she had advance warning that she was going to be bargaining with a Daedric Princess. She had put a lot of thought into what she wanted from Nocturnal, and what she would give in return. “I’m afraid that I’ve brought no gifts for you Lady Nocturnal. I came here because of the promises made to me.”

“I have made no promises to you, and Karliah knows better than to make promises on my behalf.”

“Then perhaps Karliah should have taught Galdrus better, because he promised me aid against my enemies, information, and oaths to bind your Nightingales so that I could trust them.”

“Did he?” The voice held no emotion and was all the scarier because of it’s lack.

“Do you think me a fool to lie to you? You would see through any lies that I tried to speak. I was given promises on your behalf.”

“Promises that were not his to make!” This time Nocturnal’s voice echoed in the chamber.

Karliah dropped down and kneeled so low that her head touched the floor. “Please, he is still a child. I throw myself upon your mercy. The failure is mine for not teaching him properly. I will pay the price.”

“Yes, you shall!”

While most would argue that interrupting an angry god was a bad idea, Daenery stepped forward. “Lady Nocturnal, while the boy may have spoken out of turn, I believe that we may reach an agreement to our mutual benefit.”

“You have a proposal? How interesting. You may proceed.”

“I was offered information, assistance against my enemies, and a binding oath from your Nightingales. I propose that you give me just that.”

“Do you now?” The weight of Nocturnals attention sharpened. “And what could you possibly offer to balance that? Even your soul would not suffice.”

“We both know that Mundus stands balanced on a knife’s edge. If I fail, then Al-Du-In destroys the world which makes all promises meaningless.”

“And? I’m still not giving my Nightingales to you for free. They may give you some aid, but no shadows will hide you from the World-Eater.”

“But, what if I win? I am the Dragonborn, but I have also been proclaimed Ysmir, Dragon of the North. If the world does not end, then Al-Du-In is but the first step on my journey, and I would be bringing your Nightingales with me. Let us be honest. Your Nightingales are thieves, stealing gold, gems and whatever else catches their eye. I was promised something more valuable than any amount of gold – information. Instead of thieves, they will be my spies, stealing the secrets of my enemies and sabotaging their plans. While it is by no means certain, we both know where my road is likely to end - with me sitting atop the throne of the Empire. Imagine your Nightingales there by my side. Not just Karliah and Galdrus, but generation after generation. Your Nightingales would be the dark shadows hiding in the brightest light, ferreting out the secrets of Tamriel for me and my descendants, but also for you.”

Nocturnal laughed. “My Nightingales in the White-Gold Tower? My, my, how very interesting. I hope you are paying close attention Karliah. This is how negotiations are done. You have surprised me Dragonborn. It is a most intriguing dream, but you will need to sweeten the pot. Knowledge is one thing. Souls are another.”

“And souls you will have. I promised you generations. Your Nightingales will be my elite and highest-ranking spies. They would train my other spies and be their role-models. Do you think there would be a shortage of people willing to sell their souls to join the elite?”

“You are confident, but mortals can be so attached to their souls. What if you don’t become Empress? What if you do become Empress, but have no volunteers?”

“My ascension to the throne is by no means certain, but the aid of your Nightingales will make it much more likely to happen. In that way our deal benefits us both.” While she had tried to anticipate possible offers and counteroffers, she was largely thinking on her feet now. “As for a lack of volunteers, the deal on the table appears to be for the service two Nightingales: Karliah and Galdrus. If at any time the number of your Nightingales alive and serving House Targaryen falls below two, then myself or my descendent has five years to find a replacement.” More than enough time for her and an eyeblink for a Daedric Princess. “If more than that goes by, then our deal is broken. Either I or my descendent will have to come to you and renegotiate.”

“Three,” countered Nocturnal. “Three is the most powerful number. Mundus, Oblivion, and Aetherius. Body, Mind, and Soul. Past, Present, Future. You are dov, how do you not know this?”

What did being a dov have to do with… Oh. “I am dovahkiin, but much that I knew was left behind when I donned this mortal flesh. I hear your words, and now I understand. Three Words to the Shout and three Words to the name of a dovah.”

“Yes, and three shall be the number of our agreement.”

“Three,” agreed Daenerys. “Which gives me five years to find you a third soul or our agreement is broken.”

“No and no,” declared Nocturnal. “Three years. Not five. Karliah and Galdrus will I bind to you as your first two Nightingales, but you shall provide the third. Fail to do so within three years and your soul is forfeit to me.”

Her soul was already forfeit to Hircine. Was it possible Nocturnal didn’t know that? What would happen to her if she died and both Nocturnal and Hircine had a claim on her soul? Daenerys couldn’t see them agreeing to share. More than likely they would rip her soul apart like hounds fighting over a carcass. “I will put my soul up as guarantee to seal our agreement. I will not pledge my descendants to likewise be at risk.”

There was a long silence. Daenerys glanced over to look at Karliah. The Dunmer thief met her gaze and looked away her face expressionless.

After a bit more silence Nocturnal finally spoke. “I find the terms agreeable, but I have another agreement with Karliah. Mercer Frey has earned my disfavor. You must agree to aid Karliah in seeing him defeated. If you happen to run across a little item of mine that he currently possesses, that also goes to Karliah. I have a different token for you, Dovahkiin. Cut yourself and bleed into the basin.”

Daenerys stepped up and pulled off her gauntlet. She used one of the sharpened spikes on her mace to slice the back of her hand and bled into the basin. When her blood hit the swirling black liquid the black liquid whipped out like a tentacle and struck the back of her hand where she cut it. The wound was so cold it burned, and she pulled her hand back. Her hand wasn’t cut, but it was marked. She lifted up her hand to look at the scar more closely. What she saw wasn’t a scar, but a tattoo depicting a golden cage.

“The mark of our agreement. You can pass it to a descendent by pressing the mark to them and willing it to pass to them. If in the years to come, your descendants fight among each other, I will not have my Nightingales caught in the middle.”

She had to admit that it was a good idea to create a way of deciding which of her descendants the Nightingales served. She hadn’t considered the possibility that her descendants might fight among themselves. She had only mentioned a dynasty to persuade Nocturnal. “What exactly does it do?”

“Karliah will demonstrate. Won’t you, Karliah?”

Karliah looked sullen, but she stiffened then nodded. “As a Nightingale of Nocturnal, I pledge to serve Daenerys and House Targaryen in life and Nocturnal in death.”

Daenerys heard the flutter of wings and the sound of a cage door snapping shut. She looked down at the mark and now there was a black bird trapped inside the gilded cage.

“Don’t sulk, Karliah,” said Nocturnal like a scolding mother. “You said you would pay the price, and so you shall. You and Galdrus both, but I don’t think you’ll find it too much of a burden. You were born for the shadows and the night. You will find as much joy in stealing secrets as stealing gold and jewels.” The weight of her attention shifted back to Daenerys. “If she truly breaks her word, her fortune will grow steadily worse. If she dies foresworn, she won’t have a pleasant afterlife with me. The mark will also shield you from a Nightingale’s gifts. I think that more than fulfills my end of the bargain.”

Daenerys curtseyed. “It does, Lady Nocturnal.”

“Do try and kill Alduin. It would be a shame to go to all this trouble just for the world to be destroyed.”


	26. Chapter 24

# Chapter 24

Middas, the 29th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

The Dragonguard had just passed a no-name fishing village on the shores of Lake Honrich when Daenerys saw her mounted scouts came galloping back. They came directly to her and reported that what she hoped was the escort from Riften was approaching from the east. Daenerys had expected the escort, but she had expected a token force, a dozen or so men led by an officer sent to keep the peace and expedite her trip to Riften. What her scouts reported was a score of cavalry riding in front of three score infantry with a score of archers in the center of the formation. That was not a polite escort. Someone had decided to send her the message that Riften could crush her forces if they chose. She had expected the soft approach. This was a harsh reminder that even the jarl of one of the smaller holds could still field a force large enough to overwhelm the Dragonguard without even trying hard.

She didn’t have much time to deploy her forces based on the warning the scouts brought her, but she made the best use of the time she had. She stationed archers on either flank with some foot to protect them and had them hide in the tall summer grass. Not the best of concealment, but better than nothing. She had her main force line up in a battle line two-deep. Their spears would be a good deterrent against a cavalry charge, but even her Shouts and Faralda’s battlemagic wouldn’t overcome four-to-one odds. Although they could extract a bloody price. She made sure her troops had their Dragonguard shields showing. She also made sure that the one Dragonguard banner that had survived the attack of Lok-Nos-Dov was clearly visible.

She sat upon Nightwind as the Riften forces marched into view. Instead of Sofija, she had Vignar mounted on a horse beside her. While Sofija was her second, Vignar had already made contact with the jarl of Riften and her court. That prior connection could prove useful to make sure this meeting went smoothly. As a precaution Barbas was walking along beside them just in case.

The escort from Riften stopped outside of arrow range and formed lines. Their shields were all marked with the crossed twin blades of Riften, as were most of their banners. They also flew the blue bear banner which was both the banner of Windhelm and the Stormcloaks. In addition they flew a brown banner with a circle upon it. Although she couldn’t make it the details, the brown circle had to be the circle of thorns for House Black-Briar.

“Slow advance, Vignar. We'll meet them in the middle.” She flicked her reins to set Nightwind to moving.

“As you will, Lady Targaryen,” replied Vignar.

Daenerys glanced over to Vignar. “We're both Companions. Every man his own. Every woman her own. You're my shield-brother. There is no need for any other titles between us.”

He laughed. “That was before the Greybeards hailed you. I doubt you'll ever be just a Companion again. I'll still be glad to call you shield-sister in private, or in the Halls of Jorrvaskr, but not in front of those Rifties. In front of them you're Ysmir, Dragon of the North.”

Rifties? That was an interesting slur. Perhaps there was some antagonism between the holds of Skyrim that she hadn't picked up on. However, he wasn't wrong about appearances. “Very well, shield-brother.” She waved ahead at the approaching men. “Do you know these three?”

“Of course. I'll present everyone as soon as we're close enough to talk without shouting.”

Daenerys regretted not asking about the minor nobles of Riften. Whoever these men were, they didn't even rank mentions in Vignar's briefing. However, there was no time to ask more now as they were now in conversation range. She pulled on her reins and brought her horse to a halt.

“As I know everyone here, please allow me to make introductions.” Vignar sounded pompous most of the time, now he spoke in with an exaggerated manner that would make any herald proud. “Allow me to present Hemming Black-Briar. He is the son of Lady Black-briar.”

Hemming Black-briar rode a beautiful bay stallion with a blaze of white upon the center of his forehead. The horse stood calmly. Hemming gave a nod a forced smile that was clearly fake. Although he was clearly a Nord, he shaved most of his face. Hemming only had a thin mustache and a little vertical strip of a beard on his chin. His dark hair was mostly hidden by a cap, and he was dressed in the Nord fashion, a coat over a tunic and with an animal fur draped over his shoulders, probably wolf. Clearly, he was a man who valued fashion over practicality because he was sweating under the summer sun.

Not that she was any more comfortable wearing heavy armor. Between the padding and the sky-steel plates, she was sweating in the summer heat despite the breeze off the lake. On days like this, she really missed the light silk dresses she wore in Essos. However, considering that she was facing off against a force that could crush her own, she appreciated the protection the armor gave her.

Vignar continued the introductions with a wave at the large man in the center. “In the center is Gonnar Oath-Giver. He is a veteran of the Great War where he served with Ulfric Stormcloak.”

Gonnar Oath-Giver rode a dun stallion, a few years older, but still a serviceable horse. He was a large man, not quite as muscled as Val, but obviously still a powerful warrior despite his years. His salt and pepper hair and beard were cut short, but not clean-shaven. It was an unusual look for a Nord, but it worked for him. He wore leather armor, and the hilt of a two-handed weapon was clearly visible sticking out from his back. He gave her a deep nod of his head that only fell a little short of a bow.

Vignar waved to the last man. “And this is Harrald Law-Giver, eldest son of Laila Law-Giver, and heir to the throne of Riften.”

Daenerys automatically translated his rank to Prince of Riften in her mind. Harrald Law-Giver wore scaled armor and looked fit. He carried himself with a confident air. He wore light armor of scaled leather that left his arms bare, much more appropriate for the weather. He looked to be in his late twenties, so a little too young to have taken part in the Great War. He had brown hair and the rugged good looks of a young warrior. He boldly met her gaze and appraised her just as much as she was appraising him.

Vignar turned to her. “Lastly, let me present Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Thane of Whiterun, Thane of Winterhold, the Dragonborn, and by proclamation of the Greybeards, Ysmir, Dragon of the North.”

All three men were visibly surprised by her new title, but it was Gonnar Oath-Giver who spoke first. “Does this mean that you have declared for the Stormcloaks, Lady Targaryen? Or do you prefer Ysmir?”

“Lady Targaryen is fine. I understand why you might believe that I have declared for the Stormcloaks, but I have not. The gods themselves have laid upon me the responsibility for defeating the dragons that plague Skyrim. The Dragonguard is neutral in the matter of the Stormcloak rebellion, and both the Imperials and the Stormcloaks have respected that neutrality and donated men to the Dragonguard. I trust that Riften will respect our neutrality as well.”

Harrald Law-Giver finally recovered his wits and responded. “Yes, yes. Of course, we accept your neutrality. On behalf of my mother, Laila Law-Giver, Jarl of Riften, I would like to formally invite you and your officers to stay with us in Mistveil Keep while you visit Riften. I’m afraid we don’t have enough room to host all your men, but they are welcome to camp outside the gates.”

Daenerys smiled. The acknowledgment of neutrality was a good start. “I thank you for the invitation. I’m am delighted to accept. I look forward to speaking to the jarl. If I am informed correctly, we should reach Riften in three days’ time.”

Gonnar Oath-Giver frowned in confusion. “Lady Targaryen, I’m afraid that you have been misinformed. It’s only two days from here to Riften.”

“Yes, yes, if we were going there directly. However, we’ve been invited to stay at Goldenglow Estates by Lord Aringoth.” She smiled at them pleasantly. Karliah had come through on that promise. Just a few hours ago, a messenger on horseback had brought an invitation for her and the Dragonguard to visit Goldenglow. Hopefully, Karliah would come through on her other promises as well. “I understand we’re not far from the bridge to Goldenglow Estates, so it should only be a slight detour that’s why I said three days.”

Hemming Black-Briar scowled. “I’m afraid you have been misinformed, Lady Targaryen. Yes, there is a bridge, but it is still a rather large detour. It will delay us at least by a day. That is a rather sizeable delay for Jarl Law-Giver’s men to wait while you attend a minor noble. Surely, you don’t mean to insult the jarl that way?” His tone was forceful, insultingly so even, as if she was being foolish.

Daenerys smiled disarmingly back at Hemming. Did he expect a lecture to change her mind? His displeasure was a good sign. It meant that merely visiting Goldenglow Estates irritated the Black-briars. His lack of composure was a sign of weakness. She was used to dealing with nobles who knew how to lie with a straight face. Hemming was like a spoiled child, used to having his own way. He was making a big deal out of nothing. When this force was dispatched, they had at best a rough estimate of how long they would be gone. The jarl would have no legitimate complaint if she arrived in three days instead of two. However, Hemming also had a hundred men behind him, an obvious threat, but was he prepared to use it? “I mean no disrespect to Jarl Law-Giver, but I have already given my word. Surely the jarl will understand that I will keep my commitments?”

“Lady Targaryen,” replied Hemming Black-Briar. “You are in the Rift, and the jarl of the Rift has commanded your attendance. You will send Aringoth a note of apology and come with us.”

Daenerys fixed her eyes upon Hemming. “No. I keep my promises. I will not be foresworn.”

There was a long pause where no one spoke. Hemming Black-Briar looked totally taken aback. Gonnar Oath-Giver looked pale and his hand strayed near his sword and watched her nervously. Both of them looked to Harrald Law-Giver who eventually broke the silence. “I am certain she will understand. She will just be disappointed.”

“I will send a messenger,” said Gonnar Oath-Giver. “To let the jarl know of the delay.”

“Excellent. I am glad we have an understanding.” And now she knew where the power lay among these three. “I will send also send a rider to Goldenglow Estates. I don’t know if Aringoth can accommodate all your men on such short notice, but hopefully he will at least invite your officers to join. I can cut my visit short and we can depart first thing tomorrow. That’s a pity. I understand the flower fields of Goldenglow are in full bloom, and they are a sight worth seeing.”

“I’m sure the bees will be busy as well,” warned Hemming. “Be wary that you are not stung.”

Barbas gave a low growl.

“Easy, Barbas,” said Daenerys without glancing at him. She kept her eyes on Hemming. “Best stay back. I don’t think he likes you.” Daenerys held herself to a tight-lipped smile, but inside she was grinning. Did he think he was being subtle? “Well then, gentlemen, the sooner we get started, the sooner we will arrive in Riften.” She directed her gaze toward Harrald Law-Giver. “Will you be riding with me? Or will you travel with your own men?”

“I will be glad to ride with you, Lady Targaryen,” declared Harrald Law-Giver immediately.

“We should agree on our marching order first,” said Gonnar Oath-Giver. “Just to avoid any confusion.”

“A good idea,” agreed Hemming Black-Briar. “Perhaps half of our men should march before the Dragonguard and half behind. For their protection.”

“Our protection?” After Harrald Law-Giver had agreed to ride beside her, she knew this was just posturing. He wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to ride with her if they were planning to attack. “I think you’ll find my Dragonguard is quite capable of protecting themselves, but that is an agreeable marching order. If you’ll have your forward guard start marching and have your rearguard move off the road, we can get underway.”

Harrald nodded his approval. “Gonnar, will you see to it?”

“Of course.” He turned his horse and headed back to his men.

After a moment and a harsh glare, Hemming Black-Briar followed him.

Vignar waved at her. “I’ll go inform the Dragonguard, Lady Targaryen.” Then he rode off back to the Dragonguard.

Harrald cleared his throat. “While we’re alone, I should warn you. I know you gave your word to Aringoth, Lady Targaryen, but I fear you have insulted the Black-Briars and they are one of the most prominent nobles of my mother’s court. I suggest that you mend fences with Hemming before we reach Riften.”

Daenerys nodded. “Good advice.” That she had no intention of following. “I think that I will wait until after we leave Goldenglow Estates. No doubt my visit there would just offend him again.”

Harrald chuckled. “That is probably true, but don’t wait too long. All the Black-Briars know how to nurse a grudge.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Perhaps his hot temper is from all the furs he is wearing?” She smiled at her own joke and fanned her face. “And that reminds me. I have an important question for you. It was still cool when I left Whiterun so it didn’t cross my mind, but Skyrim summers are quite hot. What is the appropriate summer wear for a lady of my station in your mother’s court? Surely there are summer dresses, or do I have to turn to Imperial fashion to find something cool to wear?”

Harrald laughed in return. “There are indeed summer fashions, but Ulfric is known for his bearskin mantle so wearing furs is currently the rage to show support for the Stormcloaks. I don’t care for such frivolities myself. It’s enough that mother pledged to support Jarl Ulfric. He won’t know or care who is wearing furs in Riften. I suggest you talk with Hemming about fashions. That would be a good choice of topics to start a conversation with him.” He flashed her a broad smile.

Was he flirting with her? Wait, did he think she was flirting with him? While the treacherous Doreah had given her lessons in seducing Khal Drogo, they had already been wed at the time. She had a lot more experience in fending off unwanted offers than in flirting. Of course, she had seen others flirting, especially when she had been a tavern wench at the Sleeping Giant Inn. Nords, both men and women, weren’t very subtle about flirting. Although that might be because when she saw them flirting they were usually more than a little bit drunk. Sagyval had been obvious about what he wanted. On the other hand, she hadn’t seen any signs that Jarl Kraldar flirting with her, but maybe he had in hindsight. She wasn’t interested in Harrald Law-Giver as a lover. She just wanted information out of him… She found herself blushing as she realized that she had been flirting and just as badly as a drunken Nord. “Ah, well now… Tell me about yourself. I know you’re the oldest son of Jarl Law-Giver, but that’s all.” Damn it to Oblivion! That sounded like flirting again!

Harrald flashed her the same broad smile. “Well, now there’s really not much to tell.”

For the next few hours Harrald, continued to regal her about ‘not much’. He was obviously flirting with her. That was embarrassing since Sofija had was walking just a short distance behind them within easy earshot, but she trusted Sofija to be discrete. More important was that between the bragging and flirting he proved to be a veritable gold mine of information about Riften that neither Vignar nor Karliah had been able to obtain for her.

“The people think my mother doesn’t care about the thieves because they don’t bother the nobles. I tell you nothing could be farther from the truth. My mother hates thieves, and she hates that Riften has the reputation of being the most corrupt city in Skyrim. She’s tried to root them out dozens of times. Part of it is corruption. We know there are some bad apples in the guard, but we don’t know which ones. However, if you ask me the real issue is this myth of the Thieves’ Guild.

“I believe that there is no Thieves’ Guild. We just have an infestation of poor malcontents. We have the fisheries and gods bless the Black-Briar Meadery, but we just have too many people who are poor and unemployed. They breed like rats, and they steal from each other as much as they do from honest men and women. That’s why they survive. There is no Thieves’ Guild to crush, just dozens of thieves. If you ask me the cure is to stop being so soft on them. Instead of jailing thieves we should start hanging them.

“Why not put some of them to honest work? Riften has joined the Stormcloaks. Press gang them into the army.”

“You would think that would work, but it costs a lot of money to feed an army. Plus, as Maven Black-Briar pointed out the war isn’t going anywhere. Nobody wants to march troops across the country because a column of troops is as likely to be attacked by a dragon as a trade caravan. My mother wasn’t even happy about sending out a hundred men to escort you in. Maven convinced her it was safe since you killed the dragon, and it wouldn’t be right not to send you an honor guard.”

Daenerys wondered if Harrald could really be so clueless not to understand that it was a message. “It’s quite a few men for an honor guard.”

“Tell me about it. It’s almost a third of our guard force. There will be shortages just manning the walls, the gates, and Mistveil Keep until we get back, but mother wanted to show off. No one important ever comes to Riften.”

Daenerys blinked at Harrald casually revealing the size of the Riften garrison. Although the part about no one important coming to Riften did put things into perspective. Because of Riften’s unsavory reputation, it was pretty much left to tend to its own affairs. That also meant that Harrald had no one in the way of peers. Maybe that’s why he was talking so much?

Harrald continued talking and went on a long rant about his brother, Saerlund. His brother didn’t support the Stormcloaks, but not because he disagreed with their cause. Saerlund thought the Stormcloak cause was just, but he also believed that Ulfric Stormcloak was a gloryhound and only rebelling to become High King.

While Daenerys thought that Saerlund might not be far from the truth, she certainly didn’t voice that to Harrald. Instead, she told how she believed that the gods had chosen her to save Skyrim from the dragons, and as such she was not taking sides in the rebellion.

“I think everyone knows that now. It’s one of the more amazing things you’ve accomplished. You actually got the Imperials and the Stormcloaks to agree upon something!”

Unsurprisingly, Harrald had questions for her as well. Of course, the first thing he wanted to know about was the dragons she fought, so she told him about her battles with Mir-Mul-Nir and Lok-Nos-Dov. He also asked about her homeland. She described a little of the ‘distant lands’ of Westeros and Essos but avoided details. Fortunately, Harrald was glad to fill most of the conversation talking about himself and Riften.

After a few hours their conversation died down. Harrald grew pensive and silent for a long while. Eventually, he broke their silence with a question. “Lady Targaryen, is it true that you’re also a healer?”

“I am, but there are many more powerful than me. I’m at best an apprentice at Restoration.”

“You mean like a mage? I thought you were favored by the gods.”

“I am, but I trained in Restoration magic at the College of Winterhold. I learned to use a Seeming to focus magic. However, just a few days ago in Ivarstead I didn’t use a Seeming. I called upon Talos when I was healing an injured boy. The magic came more easily and healed more powerfully than ever before. I haven’t had the opportunity to practice healing since then, and it feels wrong to call upon Talos without legitimate need.” She shrugged. “The gods have guided me, but calling on Talos that is new to me. I hope to talk to a priest about it while I’m in Riften.”

“You should talk to Nura Snow-Shod. She’s the only priest of Talos left in Riften. I’m sure she would be glad to help the Dragonborn.” His tone was off, his reply sounded forced.

“I'll be sure to speak with her.” Not only did she want to talk to a priest, but Clan Snow-Shod had been mentioned as one of the more important noble families of Riften. That would be a good excuse to talk with them. She studied Harrald. “Is there a particular reason you are asking?”

“Yes, but…” Harrald Law-Giver glanced over at Sofija. “I’m not sure I should say.”

“Sofija is not just my housecarl. She is Sofija, Ēlī Vokēdrie, which means First Faithful in Valyrian. She is so named because she was the very first to pledge herself to my service, and she has never wavered or disappointed me. I spoke of her bravery when I talked about the battle with Mir-Mul-Nir. She is the one who climbed upon him and plunged her swords into his back. Because of her bravery in that fight, she is also called Sofija Dragonslayer. Anything you wish to say to me, you may say to her as well.”

Harrald looked over to Sofija and bowed at the waist. “I am sorry Sofija Eli Vokedree. I should have realized you were the warrior maid in the story. I did not mean to disparage your honor. It is still a long way to Riften. Perhaps, I might hear your story before we arrive.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Sofija.

Harrald gave her another nod and then turned back to Daenerys. “It’s my mother,” he blurted out. “We try to keep it quiet, but she’s very sick. We’ve tried a few healers, discretely of course, but they have never been able to give her more than a short respite. Her illness always returns, but you have blessed by the gods. I believe that you can cure her where all others have failed.”

An illness that was cured with magic but kept coming back? That sounded strange, but she didn’t know much about curing disease. Curing disease was the domain of priests, not mages, and she hadn’t trained in it. “I will certainly try. What illness does she have?”

“We don’t know. I’m afraid it may be a malady of the mind. She is often lethargic and melancholy, sometimes to the point of not even wanting to leave her bed, but she also complains of aches and pains.” He shook his head. “And, I would be very happy if I never had to hear about her bowels again.”

Daenerys reached out and laid a hand on Harrald’s shoulder. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to heal your mother.” She would do it anyway, but if she did succeed in healing the jarl it would certainly improve her standing in Riften.

“Thank you, Dragonborn. I mean, Lady Targaryen.” He was smiling that wide smile at her again, although this time it seemed more of gratitude than flirting.

“If it is just the two of us, you may call me Daenerys.” It was meant as a gesture of kindness, but from his reaction he thought she was flirting – again.

Barbas made the hacking bark sound he did when he laughed.

.oOo.

Goldenglow was a beautiful country estate. The low islands were covered in flowers and a cool breeze blew off the lake took the bite out of summer’s heat. The estate sprawled across several islands connected by bridges. Some of the outbuildings appeared to be servants’ quarters, but the estate included a stable, a greenhouse, and some storage buildings. Two fishing boats and a small yacht were moored at the docks on the east side of the island. Daenerys had seen larger and more opulent estates, but Goldenglow had a special charm about it.

She was also intrigued by the diversity she saw in Aringoth’s workers. In all the places she’d been in Skyrim the vast majority of the inhabitants were Nords with some Bretons and Imperials in the mix and a scattering of other races. The College of Winterhold had been a bit more diverse, but at Goldenglow less than half were Nords. With Imperials and Bretons added in the mix, there were still more men than mer, but there were large numbers of Altmer and Bosmer workers and even a few Dunmer. She didn’t see any Khajiit, but she saw some Argonians diving in and out of the lake. They seemed to be gathering some kind of underwater plants. What was more remarkable is there didn’t appear to be any tension among the races. Aringoth’s people worked together instead of dividing themselves by race as she had seen elsewhere in Skyrim.

Daenerys was a little surprised to be met by Lord Aringoth’s daughter, Desthia, rather than by Aringoth himself. Desthia was a Bosmer with chestnut hair and a pretty smile. She was very polite and showed Daenerys to a suite of rooms set aside for her use. Best of all someone had readied a hot bath and it was waiting for her. The tub was huge and gloriously decadent. Daenerys lingered in it bathing until she felt truly clean. There was even a dress provided for her to wear. The maid informed her that armor was frowned upon at Goldenglow. The dress was of linen, but well-made and decorated with embroidery. It didn’t quite fit, but one of Aringoth’s servants quickly altered the dress. Daenerys was quite pleased with the result. It was apparently an Altmer style, and little too modest for her tastes, but still quite flattering.

Lord Aringoth was a white-haired Altmer old enough to have a few wrinkles which meant he was probably two-hundred years or older. He was surprisingly laid back for an Altmer, especially one who was noble, albeit a minor and country noble. He refused to let anyone use his title. Even his servants just called him sir. In honor of the Dragonguard’s visit, he threw them all a feast. Her followers ate with his servants on the green outside, while she dined with her officers at his table. Hannar Law-Giver and Hemming Black-Briar were also present at his invitation, but Gonnar Law-Giver had chosen to stay with the Riften guards. Aringoth had politely declined to host the Riften guard as he simply hadn’t been prepared to feed a hundred men.

Dinner conversation was mostly polite and casual. Daenerys was particularly pleased that Aringoth was unfailingly polite to Faralda. She was still sensitive about her looks, but Aringoth never mentioned them once. Instead, he asked about her tenure at the College of Winterhold and her areas of interest. Faralda and Aringoth turned out to have much in common. Like Faralda, his parents had come to Skyrim to get as far as possible from the Aldmeri Dominion. Aringoth’s father had been a Bosmer, and Aringoth had married a Bosmer in turn, so neither Aringoth nor his children would have met the Thalmor’s standards for racial purity.

Dinner was mostly over when Camilla and Aringoth started a staged conversation that had been arranged in the letters Daenerys had exchanged with Aringoth. Camilla did beautifully, asking questions about the business of the estate. Aringoth mentioned fish and flowers before working around to honey. Camilla asked about the prices and commented that honey was cheaper in the Rift than Whiterun. Aringoth lamented that under the current laws he was not allowed to sell outside the Rift which gave him little choice but to sell to the Black-Briar Meadery.

Camilla glanced over to Hemming Black-Briar. “If you’re making more honey than you can sell, then perhaps you should look into brewing your own mead then?”

Hemming Black-Briar laughed. “Aringoth tried, about ten years back. Golden Label Mead. He had trouble with his people drinking it before they could sell it. Then he made a bad batch and made a lot of people sick. I don’t think anyone will ever forget that. When he stops trying to gouge us, we’ll buy more. What your merchant didn’t say is that he doesn’t have to ship his honey all the way to Whiterun. Aringoth just has to get take them to Riften.”

Daenerys was certain that Maven Black-Briar’s connections with the Thieves’ Guild had a lot to do with Aringoth’s previous failed attempt to produce his own label. With his mercenaries and the support of the Dragonguard, he might succeed if he tried again. Although whether he did or not was irrelevant. What was important was that even the possibility was a threat against the Black-Briar’s main source of wealth. The seed of doubt was planted, now to cover it up so it could grow.

She directed a stern gaze to Hemmet. “Black-Briar, Camilla is my quartermaster and a valued advisor. If I ever settle and have my own estates, I expect that I will make her my steward.” She glanced over to Camilla and softened her tone a little. “Camilla dear, while I do appreciate your talent for making me coin perhaps this is not the time or the place to have this conversation. You can discuss business opportunities with Aringoth later.”

Camilla dipped her head. “Of course, Lady Targaryen. My apologies.”

Daenerys so wanted to wink at Camilla, but there were too many witnesses. She would just have to compliment her later for playing her part perfectly. “Lord Aringoth? Maybe we should lighten the mood? I believe you had some entertainment planned?”

“Now, now, just Aringoth will do, but that’s a splendid idea. Desthia, would you play for us?”

“Of course, father.” Desthia brought out an intricately carved lute and started singing. Not surprisingly her first song was _The Dragonborn Comes._

Daenerys listened distractedly. Desthia had a lovely voice, and she even sung the Dovahzul portions of the song correctly, but Daenerys had heard that song way too many times. Instead she found herself studying Desthia. She had heard the phrase ‘mother’s blood will tell’ many times, but she still found the concept as strange as regular seasons. However, as Paar-Thur-Nax had said, different kalpa, different laws. Other than being a little bit taller than the average Bosmer, Desthia showed no sign of being her father’s daughter. Which made Daenerys wonder why the Thalmor were obsessed with racial purity. Unlike dogs or horses, it seemed that different breeds of man and mer bred true.

After Desthia sang a few songs Jon Battle-Born took a turn singing as well. While Desthia was a decent singer, Jon outshined her in every way, even if he did start by playing _The Dragonborn Comes_. Although she really had no cause to complain. She could see how everyone in the room sneaked glances at her while Jon sang. This song did a lot to improve her reputation and that of the Dragonguard. He followed that up with other popular songs like _Ragnar the Red_ and _Tale of the Tongues_.

Jon put down his lute. “Now I have a tale to tell you all. Wise men say that the world is round like a ball and that if you go far enough, then east meets west. If you were to somehow go that far, you would find the land of Essos, east beyond east, the home of dragons and of Lady Daenerys Targaryen. You would also find Westeros, west beyond west. It is in the land of Westeros that our story unfolds.”

Daenerys had asked Jon to perform for Aringoth, but she was not expecting this. When he had sought her out to learn more about the story of the Night King, she had expected him to write a song, or at least an epic poem. Instead he was simply telling the story. Although there was nothing simple about the way he told it. Even without verse or music, Jon held the room spellbound as he told the tale. He started with the White Walkers and built up to the Night King. He only briefly described the lands, but he waxed poetic about the heroes: Jorah the Bear, Bran the Seer, Theon the Broken, Jamie Lannister the Kingslayer, Sandor Clegane, Lady Mormont the child jarl, Melisandre the Priestess, Grey Worm the commander of the Unsullied, the Knights of the Vale, the Dothraki Horde, and Arya Stark the last daughter of the kings of the North. Of course, he also included her and her dragons. Jon Snow was notably absent, but that was likely because she simply hadn’t spoken of him much, so it wasn’t surprising that he had been edited out.

Jon didn’t try to tell the story in chronological order. He told about the battle of Winterfell through the heroes sometimes jumping back and forth in time as he switched characters. He started with Bran the Broken and the terrible future he foresaw to set the stage, then moved on to the others. Mostly he told their stories true, but sometimes he made alterations. Likely he did so to make them more understandable. Melisandre changed the most. He changed her into a Priestess of Merida, but that made surprisingly little difference. She was still under a sentence of death for practicing human sacrifice. She had still come to fight, and still been reluctantly accepted as an ally. He also changed the manner of her death. Instead of being at the end of the battle, she had spent her own life in her last effort to set light to the wet wooden barricade that surrounded Winterfell.

As the story continued, she appreciated the deft way that Jon wove Arya Stark in the story. When the other heroes all had memorable introductions, Jon had barely mentioned Arya. However, as his story jumped from hero to hero, he made little mentions of Arya. None of them very big. She might have missed them if she hadn’t been aware of Arya’s role. However, the effect was to make it as if Arya had been everywhere taking part in every part of the battle.

Story by story he described the battle. The charge of the Dothraki. The battle of the women and children hiding in the crypts. The tale of Lady Mormont moved everyone to tears. Daenerys even found herself dabbing at her own eyes.

When Jon came to her part of the story, of her fighting to kill her only child, or three dragons battling in the dark overcast sky, Daenerys felt every eye in the room drawn to her. They were all wide with awe. However, she found herself lost in Jon’s words. She fought back tears again at the deaths of Viserion and Jorah Mormont, but Jon was just building up to the climax of the tale. Winterfell overrun, the dead victorious over the living, the battle lost. Then came Arya, last daughter of Winterfell. There were audible gasps when the Night King caught her blow and held her helpless aloft gloating.

“The Night King stared into the eyes of Arya Stark with his cold dead eyes of icy blue. Then she dropped her dagger from her right hand, caught it with left, and with one smooth stroke drove it into his frozen heart. The Night King shattered and died. One by one, the White Walkers shattered and died. The Dead fell were they stood and moved no more.”

“Now you have heard the story of the Night King. Whenever this story is told, remember the girl who slew him. Remember the girl who saved Westeros. Her name was Arya Stark. May she never be forgotten.”

Lydia rose first. Not surprising as she had been there when Daenerys first told the story to the Companions. She held out her goblet. “To Arya Stark. May she never be forgotten.”

Around the room both nobles and commoners rose and repeated their refrain and held the drinks extended. Daenerys waited until it was just her and Aringoth and started to rise, but the old elf laid a hand on her shoulder and rose himself and made the toast.

According to Paar-Thur-Nax Westeros and Essos weren’t on the other side of the world. That world was dead and gone, but it pleased her that this little bit was remembered. She stood and raised her glass. Maybe the bards were right. In the end it was the stories that mattered. “To Arya Stark. May she never be forgotten.”


	27. Chapter 25

# Chapter 25

Middas, the 29th of Midyear, Year 202 of the 4th Era

  
Once the feast was over Aringoth invited Daenerys to a private meeting in his study. Aringoth’s study was tidy and well-organized, much like Faralda’s office back at the College of Winterhold. The study held two bookshelves with the titles arranged alphabetically. The desk was clean of everything but an inkpot and a quill. Above the desk was a lattice of cubbyholes that contained scrolls. Unlike Faralda’s office there were a large number of potted plants scattered about the rooms, and the walls were adorned with paintings, pottery, and carvings that were obviously the work of children.  
  
Aringoth lowered himself into a comfortable chair. The way he sank slowly into it said more about his age than his white hair and subtle wrinkles. He filled a pipe with some dried herb and started puffing on it. “Well now, that was quite some story your bard told. How much of it was true?”  
  
Daenerys sat down on a wickerwork chair padded with cushions. “Almost all of it. Jon made a few changes. For example, Melisandre was a priestess of R’hllor, not Meridia. She died the morning following the battle. However, those changes were to make the story easier to understand or to flow better. The story is true. I was there. I fought the Night King but could not slay him. Arya Stark did. She saved us all.”  
  
He nodded and turned his head to the side and blew out a cloud of smoke. “So why are you here, instead of in Westeros?”  
  
“I should have died. Instead, I awoke in Skyrim. That life is over. As to why I’m here.” Daenerys sighed. “The gods have chosen me to stop the dragons, slay Al-Du-In, and save the world, or so the Greybeards believe.”  
  
“Old people say a lot of things. It doesn’t make them true. I know. I’m an old fool myself. For what it’s worth, I believe you.” He poked his pipe in her direction. “You spend any time in and around Riften and you learn to spot phonies. You’re the genuine article, but that just answers why you’re in Skyrim. Why are you in the Rift? And why are you meddling in Riften politics? How does that kill any dragon, let alone the World-Eater?”  
  
“It doesn’t, but if I fought Al-Du-In today, I would lose. I’m building my strength, in arms, in magic, and in allies, and I’m fighting other dragons as I go.” She could leave it at that, but she liked what she had seen of Aringoth so far. Enough to show him a little more of her plans. “The practical reason: When I leave the Rift, I’ll be going north. There is a dragon wandering the sulfur pools region of Eastmarch. I have men in Ivarstead building ballistae. That will take a few weeks. I plan to use that time wisely. I’m planning to recruit more troops in Riften and visit Fort Dawnguard. I would have been perfectly happy to have avoided Riften politics, but I’m already involved.”  
  
“Involved? Hmm.” He picked his pipe back up and puffed on it a bit. “So, what are these plans, and how do they involve me? That little conversation at dinner has already kicked the beehive.”  
  
“I’m planning to take down the Black-Briars and the Thieves’ Guild, but I’m not going to be staying in the Rift. I need people ready to step in when I leave and keep things stable. I think you could be one of those people.”  
  
“Taking down the Black-Briars and the Thieves’ Guild both? When you have only a handful of men? That takes balls!” He laughed long and hard. “Why me?”  
  
“First, Karliah recommended you. Second, I know you’ve had trouble with the Black-Briars and the Thieves’ Guild already. Those led me here, and I like what I’ve seen of Goldenglow. Your people are happy.”  
  
Aringoth shrugged. “I was throwing a feast. People are always happy on a feast day.”  
  
“True, but this was a deeper happiness.” And she knew how hard it was to get different peoples to work together. That Aringoth could manage them spoke well of his leadership. He might make a good jarl, but there was no way the Nords of Riften would stand for an Altmer jarl. So that left one obvious position. “I expect that by the time I’m done in Riften, that House Black-Briar won’t be a power in Riften. The Black-Briar Meadery is one of the largest employers in the Rift. The meadery needs to stay open, keep making mead, and keep people working. How would you like to run the meadery?”  
  
“You’re offering me the Black-Briar Meadery?”  
  
Daenerys shrugged. “It’s already obvious that House Black-Briar is my enemy and yours. I’m going to take them down. You already tried to make your own label, so you know the business.”  
  
“Most people would jump at that because of the gold. I’ve got more than enough gold to live a comfortable life and still leave some to my daughters. That’s all a mer really needs. Well, that and a good pipe.”  
  
Daenerys had the feeling Aringoth was telling the truth. Control over the meadery would greatly expand his coffers and influence, but he cared more about his people than for either. “That’s admirable, but how is that working out for you and your people? You know that Maven Black-Briar has hired the Thieves’ Guild to send you a message? I’ve seen the mercenaries you’ve had to hire.”  
  
Aringoth grinned. “No, you didn’t. They aren’t mercenaries. I trained up and armored my own people. Mercenaries aren’t that trustworthy.” He sighed. “Still, you’re right. That’s why I went along with that farce at dinner. I shouldn’t need my own private army, but I do. Maven Black-Briar wouldn’t be content even if I sold her my honey at cost. She’s been pushing me for years. If Riften wasn’t a skeever nest, I wouldn’t need to train up my own little army. The Black-Briar Meadery… You do know that the Snow-Shods own a piece of it as well?”  
  
Daenerys frowned. “No, I didn’t. I just knew they owned most of the farms around Riften.” The Snow-Shod clan was on the list that she hoped to bring to her side. “In that case, I might not be able to just give you the meadery, but I could still give you a piece of it.”  
  
“Are you planning on killing all the Black-Briars then?” He didn’t sound displeased or upset about it, just curious.  
  
“It will likely come to that.” Mercy was for the strong. She didn’t have the political or military power to make an enemy of the Black-Briars, but let them live. “The Black-Briars must go. I’ve learned that they are behind most of the crime and corruption in Riften. They have to be removed from power, and I need good people to replace them or Riften won’t really change. It will go right back to being as it always has been. I think you could be one of those people who helps it change.”  
  
He chuckled. “You win. Should have known better than to argue with Ysmir. I’ll do it. As much as I hate the city, I live in the Rift. I suppose that I could help run the meadery for a few months, and then hand it over to one of my daughters once things settle down. What will the meadery cost me? My riches are in land and my people, not gold. I can supply your Dragonguard. Are you also expecting some of my ‘mercenaries’ as fodder for your war?”  
  
“Supplies. Food mostly, but other basic supplies. Camilla can fill you in on our needs. I won’t ask you for your men-at-arms. You’ll need them for the time being. Maven is going to be pissed that we’re aligned. If you have any volunteers brave enough to face dragons, I’ll take them and see them trained. The Dragonguard needs to grow because the dragons must be stopped. I need archers especially, but any volunteers should know what they’re getting into. Fighting dragons is at least as dangerous as going to war. And…” If she read Aringoth he wouldn’t like this part. “… I need one more thing. I need you to send a representative. Someone like your steward or one of your daughters. Someone who would have standing in Jarl Law-Giver’s court. I’m the dragonborn, but I need one of the Rift’s own to stand up for me.”  
  
“Supplies – done. I’ll more than recoup my costs with the meadery. I’m sure that I’ll have some fools that all but beg me to let them join your Dragonguard. You can have them, but sending someone to Riften.” Aringoth frowned and took several puffs of his pipe. “I see the sense of someone from the Rift to support you, but whoever goes will be a target. Maven’s enemies have a habit of suffering accidents.” He puffed his pipe again. “It would have to be Desthia, but I won’t send her. Not into that skeeverhole, not even with you at her side. I’ll go myself.”  
  
Daenerys hadn’t expected Aringoth to volunteer himself. She wasn’t sure how old he was, but from the way he moved he was feeling his age. “I’ll be honored to have your company."  
  
“Yes, yes, since I’m putting my head on the block with you, I hope to have a good seat when the Black-Briars get what’s coming to them. “Now, fill me in on the rest of the details. Let’s see if we can’t improve your plans any.”

.oOo.

  
One good thing about the deal she made with Aringoth, it gave her a reasonable excuse to delay her departure from Goldenglow Estates. While Hemming Black-Briar did complain loudly about the delays, Daenerys told him quite firmly that she wasn’t going to turn down the supplies being so generously donated by Lord Aringoth to the Dragonguard. He was literally donating wagonloads of supplies, complete with the wagons to carry them. While the supplies were being organized, she had Marcus Verres test the volunteers who had come forward to join the Dragonguard. Marcus rejected some of the hopefuls, but they picked up three archers, and four men at arms. Of the seven recruits, five of them were Nords, one Breton, and one Bosmer. With the supplies being loaded and Marcus testing prospects, they didn’t leave Goldenglow until just after noon, which suited her just fine.  
  
Daenerys spent a good part of the trip to Riften talking with Jon Battle-Born. Shortly after leaving Goldenglow, Jon had taken her aside and insisted on teaching her how to tell a story properly. According to Jon, she had a gift for oratory, but her stories came across more like a soldier giving a battlefield report. Jon also told her that she needed to be bold and boast about her own deeds more. They rode together for several hours a day while he coached her on how to properly tell a story. Jon was an inspired storyteller, but a somewhat impatient teacher. When she was slow to pick up his methods, he coached her in the telling of two stories: the defeat of Mir-Mul-Nir and the defeat of Lok-Nos-Dov. Daenerys considered it time well spent. She really should have thought of it herself.  
  
Not that she was able to only focus on sharpening her story-telling skills. She also had many conversations with Aringoth, Vignar, and her small council. What remained of her time was spent more time riding and talking with Harrald Law-Giver, Hemming Black-Briar, and Gonnar Oath-Giver.  
  
Daenerys found it amusing that Harrald Law-Giver was jealous of Jon Battle-Born. He didn’t entirely believe her that Jon and Olfina Grey-Mane were a couple. She focused on steering the conversation by asking about the economy of Riften and the Rift in general. Despite being heir to the throne, Harrald didn’t have much in the way of insights. From what she could gather he left most of that to ‘Aunt’ Maven and his mother’s steward.  
  
Her conversations with Hemming Black-Briar were short and not very productive. Hemming wasn’t keen on talking with her. He answered her questions with brief replies that made it clear he was as clueless as Harrald about the details of ruling Riften. He also made poorly veiled threats that falling under the sway of ‘the elf’ was a horrible mistake.  
  
Gonnar Oath-Giver was a busy man who preferred to focus on his men. When Daenerys finally managed to have a conversation with him, she learned a great deal. Gonnar understood war. He had fought with Ulfric in the Great War and during the Markarth Incident. She also learned that only Gonnar and a dozen men on his command staff were sworn to Ulfric Stormcloak. That made them the only actual Stormcloaks in the Rift. Since the jarl had pledged to the Stormcloak cause, the entire Riften guard belonged to the Stormcloaks in theory. In practice, the guard took their orders from Jarl Law-Giver and the officers of the Riften watch. Gonnar had urged Jarl Law-Giver to start levying forces so they could be trained, but Maven Black-Briar had argued against it. Since the Rift bordered Morrowind, building up an army might cause an escalation in the war. Maven argued that they shouldn’t provoke the Empire while Ulfric was still gathering his forces.  
  
Daenerys agreed with Gonnar. While it made a certain amount of sense not to levy too many soldiers now, war was certainly coming. It took time to levy peasants, and it took more time to turn them into soldiers. If Riften was serious about joining the Stormcloaks, they should be training at least some men now. Those men could then become the cadre that trained the others. That’s what Jarl Kraldar had been doing in Winterhold. He was building up the core of an army and a navy. Jarl Law-Giver doing nothing told Daenerys that she wasn’t truly committed to the Stormcloak side, or perhaps more accurately Maven Black-Briar was not committed to the Stormcloaks. Given that Maven was known to have ties to the Empire, that made a lot more sense.  
  
With the delay leaving Goldenglow, they did not reach Riften by the second day. Ironically, the Dragonguard likely could have made Riften late on the second day. Her people had been marching for weeks and had toughened up. The Dragonguard also spent less time making and breaking camp each night. Their Riften guard escort, on the other hand, were not accustomed to the rigors of a long march. The Riften guard started the day bitching and moaning, and many of them were staggering by the end of the day. They pitched a haphazard camp, and the process started up all over again the next day. Even Hemming Black-Briar couldn't complain when her people were willing to continue marching, but they had to halt so they wouldn't leave their escort behind.  
  
In the evenings Daenerys circulated through the Riften guard escort and provided healing. It cost her only a little time while building goodwill with the Riften guard and letting her take their measure. It was readily apparent to Daenerys that the Riften guards were almost as much in awe of her as the people of Ivarstead. They bowed their heads to her and saluted her. She could hear them calling her Ysmir and Dragonborn as she passed. Some stammered out their thanks for healing. A few were bold enough to ask if the stories were true. Had she really slain two dragons? Had the Greybeards really proclaimed her Ysmir? Had she really fought against the Night King alongside Arya Stark? Daenerys answered their questions truthfully without bragging. She also noticed that there were a few Riften guards that watched her with fear and suspicion.  
  
Healing also gave her the chance to practice using faith as a seeming rather than empathy. She found that using faith made healing much easier. Maybe, it was because she knew that none of them were hurting that badly. She was just healing blisters and the pain of aching muscles. She wasn't skilled enough at Restoration to wipe away their exhaustion. While she knew from her own experience that any healing was a relief when your body was acclimating to the rigors of a long march, it wasn’t like their lives were in danger.  
  
Regardless of the reason, when she tried to use faith her healing worked better. Simply remembering Grandfather was enough. Grasping her amulet of Talos while she cast helped. She felt that invoking Talos by calling upon his name would be even more effective, but it felt wrong for such trivial injuries. She tried healing by using her faith in the Nine and nothing happened. When she focused instead on her faith in Kyne, she was able to heal, but not as readily as when she used her faith in Talos as a focus. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. She believed in Talos. He sent Grandfather to her. She respected the divinity of Kyne after invoking her name, but she didn't have faith in the Nine in the abstract.  
  
It was something of a surprise to realize that she had become a Talos worshiper. Even if she had never made him an offering, she had faith in him. Intellectually, she knew that her belief in Talos was not a good thing politically. She was trying to stay neutral between the Stormcloaks and the Empire. Worshiping Talos was decidedly not neutral. Politically, it would be pragmatic to ignore the little seed of faith she'd found inside her instead of tending it and encouraging it grow. However, for the first time she really understood why people acted the way they did about their gods. Faith, believing, it had a power all its own other than just powering her magic. She couldn't just turn her back on it. She wasn't ready yet to shout her belief to everyone, but she was willing to at least tend the seed in private. Which she did by offering Talos a little prayer. Whether it was Talos speaking to her or just her own belief, she felt better for her decision.  
  
They finally reached Riften a little before noon on the second day of Sun’s Height. That timing suited Daenerys just fine. If all went as planned, Karliah and Galdrus would have already completed the first steps of her plan. The escort even worked to her benefit. She had more than a hundred witnesses that the Dragonguard had only arrived in Riften this day. While Daenerys couldn’t overhear the conversation, she could see Hemming Black-Briar angrily waving his arms around before he took off into the city leaving the rest of them behind. That was an encouraging sign, but Hemming would likely be just as upset if Karliah or Galdrus had been caught.  
  
Daenerys went to the open field where space had been set aside for the Dragonguard to make camp. She stayed out of the way while Marcus Verres walked around and occasionally barked commands when the camp wasn’t being set up to his standards. They weren’t Imperials and they didn’t have quite enough men to set up a proper Imperial camp with a ditch and spikes, but Marcus still wanted a latrine, a proper firepit for cooking and the tents all set close together so they were easier to defend. Under his watchful eye the camp was set up before Hemming Black-Briar calmed down.  
  
Harrald Law-Giver walked over to her and gave a polite bow. “Sorry for the delay. We just learned that thieves broke into Black-Briar Manor and stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.”  
  
“That’s horrible.” She forced herself to remember the burning of King’s Landing. She needed to show regret and sympathy – not satisfaction. “But you told me there was no Thieves’ Guild. Were any of the Black-Briars or their servants killed? Does this happen often in Riften?”  
  
“There is no Thieves’ Guild,” said Harrald firmly. “This was just desperate people. There weren’t any deaths and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that some of the servants helped. There have been a few incidents at small outlying country manors throughout the Rift, but I’ve never heard of them hitting anything as big as Black-Briar Manor before.”  
  
“I have.” Daenerys turned and beckoned to Aringoth. “Didn’t you tell me that you chased a thief away just a couple of weeks ago?  
  
“Yes, Lady Targaryen, we did. The thief tried to come in through the sewer system. We had a trap set up, and the thief set off an alarm, but she got away clean. Why, has something happened?”  
  
After catching Aringoth up on the gossip, Harrald gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m sorry you had such a poor welcome to Riften, but I’m sure my mother is eager to meet you. We have been gone longer than expected.”  
  
“Of course.” She quickly gathered Aringoth, Vignar, Sofija, Lydia, and Faralda over to her and left Marcus Verres in charge of the camp. Barbas had never left her side.  
  
Harrald gave a nod of approval and led the way with an honor guard of six men in front of them and another six behind.  
  
Riften proved to be every bit as malodorous as Vignar had warned. Most cities stank, but Riften was foul beyond belief. Maybe, she had conveniently forgotten how badly cities could stink. Maybe, her werewolf sense of smell made it worse. Maybe, it was the summer heat and the lack of a breeze. Regardless, the rank smell of shit hanging over the city was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She gladly accepted the handkerchief that Harrald gave to her. It helped the smell a little.  
  
The escort turned out to be necessary. They didn’t make it a block into the city before someone recognized her. Cries immediately went out. “The Dragonborn!” “Help me, Lady Targaryen!” “Hail Ysmir! Dragon of the North!” “The Dragonborn has come!” The people of Riften pressed around them. On the surface they looked much the same as the people of Riverwood or Whiterun. Most of them were Nords, and most of them were poor. There were more beggars in the streets, but no street urchins.  
  
However, when Daenerys looked deeper, she saw that the people of Riften were different from the people of Riverwood, Whiterun, or Winterhold in an important way. She had grown accustomed to the respect and reverence she received since she killed Mir-Mul-Nir, but the people who shouted at her looked more worn, more dour, and much more desperate. Daenerys lowered the handkerchief from her nose. She realized it sent the wrong message. It was a short journey from Riften stinks, to the people of Riften stink. She almost gagged from the smell, but she focused on the people, meeting their eyes, nodding, smiling, and waving at them. The crowd kept pressing until her escort bashed some back with their shields. After that the crowd backed off, but they still kept calling out to her. The throng didn’t thin out until they reached the stairs leading upwards to Mistveil Keep, the home of the jarl of Riften. Despite the name it wasn’t much of a keep. It was closer to being a well-fortified manor. Stone walls enclosed a small courtyard and stairs led up to the main building. The walls were of solid stone and the windows were mere arrow slits, but the ‘keep’ was only two stories high and not very imposing as fortresses go. An honor guard lined the steps and saluted as Harrald Law-Giver led them into Mistveil Keep.  
  
Daenerys was politely shown to a guest room and given an opportunity to clean up. A bath wasn’t ready and waiting on her, but some maids quickly drew one. The water was clean and they added a scented oil to the bath which helped drive away the reek of city that permeated even into the jarl’s keep. She had decided that she wanted to present herself as a noblewoman and not a warrior maid when being presented to Jarl Law-Giver, so she wore the embroidered Altmer dress that Aringoth had given her. The maid that had been assigned to her didn’t have a clue about how to braid her hair properly, and Lydia came to her rescue. Lydia was still braiding her hair when Harrald Law-Giver knocked asked for admittance.  
  
Harrald held his helmet under his left arm and looked a bit flustered. “I’m sorry, Lady Targaryen, but my mother is indisposed. She will be resting for the remainder of the day. The feast to welcome you to Riften has been postponed until tomorrow night.”  
  
“I see.” That was surprising. Was this another message? You didn’t keep someone of higher rank waiting, but it was common enough to make lesser nobles wait their turn. Or was his mother truly that sick? “You asked me to help her. I would be glad to try healing her.”  
  
“I suggested as much to my mother, but she… declined at this time.”  
  
Daenerys studied Harrald as Lydia finished her braids and stepped back. There was something Harrald wasn’t saying. “Very well, I hope to meet with her tomorrow then. Thank you for the information. Since my audience has been postponed, I have business in Riften. Would you like to accompany me?”  
  
Harrald winced. “That’s the other reason that I stopped by. Given the reaction of the crowds, my mother advises that you remain in Mistveil Keep for your own safety.”  
  
“Hmm.” That didn’t make sense. You advised someone of higher rank when you did not agree with their actions or could not command them. Yet, if that was the case, why advise her at all? She felt like she was missing something. However, sitting around waiting on the jarl would be a sign of weakness. Besides, she had too much going on to spend half a day sitting on her ass. “Very well, I have considered her advice, but I have business to attend to in Riften. Will you be able to provide me with an escort of guards, or will I need to provide my own?”  
  
Harrald lowered his gaze. He clearly wasn’t happy. “I cannot provide you a guard. My mother decreed that if you chose to go against her advice, then you would receive no escort.” He looked back up and gave her a weak smile. “However, she gave me no instructions personally other than conveying this message. I would be glad to show you around Riften. What business do you need to attend to in Riften?”  
  
She smiled back. “And I would very much welcome your company.” That was the absolute truth. She couldn’t move against the Thieves’ Guild yet. She would need Karliah’s support for that. She shouldn’t move against any of the skooma dens today. She only knew where to find them because of Karliah. Moving against them would give away that she had spies in Riften. Maven Black-Briar probably already suspected that her agents were behind the robbery of Black-Briar Manor. Daenerys couldn’t afford to give her more clues. However, she could move against at least one other target and Harrald would be the perfect witness. “Since we have time, I would like to see to a better dress for myself and Sofija, Ēlī Vokēdrie. I trust you know seamstress that your mother and Lady Black-Briar use.”  
  
He laughed. “Dress shopping is not what I expected of you. Although I can understand you wanting to get out of that Altmer dress…” He frowned. “You had the sleeves removed.”  
  
He noticed. Given that he didn’t seem to care about fashion, he must be smitten bad. “I did, which helped some, but still not my style.”  
  
“Very well, if it is just the dress shop and back, I don’t think we’ll have problems.”  
  
Daenerys laughed. “No, no, I’m not going to shop for dresses all day. I just need to make the connection and order at least one dress. After that, I would like to see the Black-Briar Meadery, the Ice-Blood Fishery, and Honorhall Orphanage.”  
  
“That’s an odd list. I’m not sure if we’ll make them all before they close their doors for the day. Maybe, we can make it. We would have to do Honorhall last and not spend too much time at the dress shop.”  
  
“Well, you need to leave and let me change into my armor then.” She made a shooing gesture.  
  
“Now, now. I think I’d rather stay and watch that.”  
  
Daenerys was surprised. While Nords were usually direct in their flirting, Harrald hadn’t said anything so forward before. Perhaps her being a guest in his home made him bolder. She waved a hand to shoo him away. “Off with you and let me change.”  
  
“Fine, fine. I’ll wait for you outside.” Harrald exited her chambers laughing.  
  
Daenerys glanced around the room taking stock of her forces. Sofia, Lydia, Faralda, Barbas, and herself. Add Vignar in the other room. Leave Aringoth behind. They should be safe enough from any ambush, but not from the crowds. It took more manpower to make people mind their distance than it did to simply kill them. However, she also didn’t want to divide her forces into small groups so they could be ambushed. She wondered if that could be the reason for the jarl’s odd behavior. The jarl likely had witnesses that she had advised Danerys to remain in Mistveil Keep. The jarl could wash her hands of any ambush. How many to take?  
  
She could play what-if games all day. “Lydia, I need you to go talk to Vignar and Aringoth. Explain the situation. I’d like Vignar to come with us. Aringoth should remain behind and bar his door.” Vignar was old, but he was still a Companion and could more than hold his own. Aringoth would be a liability in a fight. “After you have done that, hurry to our camp. Get three of the Dragonguard to join our escort and return.”  
  
Lydia thumped her chestplate. “Of course, my Thane. I am at your command.” She hurried off.  
  
“Why do I need a dress?” asked Sofija with a scowl on her face. “I’m your housecarl. I should be in armor to protect you.”  
  
“A dress is just armor for a different battlefield. I know that I’ve been leaning heavily on Vignar of late, but you are my chosen second, Sofija. You need to learn this as well.”  
  
“You wear armor most of the time,” complained Sofija.  
  
Daenerys was amused. Sofija prided herself on her dedication. She leapt upon Mir-Mul-Nir’s back, but ask her to wear a dress and she gets sulky? “I have been wearing armor most of the time. At first, I needed to accustom myself to the weight of the armor.” Which wasn’t much of a problem any longer after inhaling two dragons and becoming a werewolf. “Later, I needed to be seen as a military leader. It is also why I ordered the skysteel armor. Skysteel isn’t that much stronger than regular steel, but it shines, and that makes an impression. I also only wear a helmet when we’re going into combat. I’m a symbol, and symbols need to be seen. I don’t expect you to be perfect Sofija, but you can learn to fight on this battlefield as well.”  
  
“Just don’t expect me to flirt like you are. I’m quite happy with Ull.”  
  
“That wasn’t intentional. I was just trying to coax information out of him. He read too much into it” Daenerys sighed at Sofija’s skeptical look. “Fine. I am also using it to my advantage.” Using Harrald. He seemed to be a decent if somewhat gullible man, but she liked powerful men and Harrald was a follower. She didn’t even feel guilty about using him. She had the fate of the entire world on her shoulders. The sooner she got this mess in Riften cleared up, the better.

.oOo.

  
Daenerys dressed in her armor long before Lydia was back. Rather than wait inside Mistveil Keep, she tried to go into the city only to find a crowd waiting at the base of the steps. She decided to face the crowd directly and ask what they wanted. Many of them wanted to just see her and touch her. She asked them their names and sent them on their way. Some of them complained of being poor and out of work. If they were young and fit, she told them the Dragonguard was hiring and told them to seek out her camp outside the gates of Riften. A few were sick and injured and she healed them. She ignored a lout that kept asking for her to show them her thu’um. She also ignored the beggars asking for coin. There were far too many beggars in Riften. If she gave alms to these beggars, word would get around. She didn’t have enough coin to donate to every beggar in Riften  
  
When her escort arrived from the Dragonguard, Daenerys was amused to see that Val was one of the three guards. He was carrying her handmaiden, Raina, on his back like she was a little child. While the sight amused her, it was a practical way to get her crippled handmaiden safely through Riften. She sent Raina on inside of Mistveil Keep to wait in the suite that had been apportioned to her. With that accomplished, she and her escort set off into Riften  
  
Val and two of the Dragonguard cleared the path. Vignar and Lydia watched either side. Sofija watched her back. That left her in the center with Harrald Law-Giver and Barbas. The crowds pressed in close, and Val had to strong-arm a few aside, but they managed to push their way into the crowded streets of Riften with Harrald Law-Giver calling out directions.  
  
The Gold & Needle wasn’t very far from Mistveil Keep, which wasn’t a surprise considering it catered to the well-off of Riften. The owner of the shop, Sjerske the Golden was thrilled to have the Dragonborn in her shop looking for a dress. Sjerske was probably called the Golden because of her long blonde hair, but it made her name a pun in more than one way. Daenerys laid out her requirements: formal, lightweight, and daring. She wanted something that would draw attention, not look like a harlot. After some discussion Daenerys agreed to a gown in a deep blue of Bosmer cut. Sjerkse took some measurements and promised to rush order the dress. She would bring it to Mistveil Keep the next day and make any needed adjustments then. They also briefly discussed a dress for Sofija, but postponed that until next time.  
  
Once they left the Gold & Needle, Harrald led them through the market. Riften’s market was made of many small stalls. While Riften might be the poor cousin of Whiterun and Windhelm, it still had a large and active market with people bustling all about. Daenerys saw the usual goods being traded. Camilla was likely in and about somewhere in the market with a couple of bodyguards securing more supplies, but Daenerys didn’t see her.  
  
After the market Harrald led them to the Black-Briar Meadery. She was met by Asgeir Snow-Shod, oldest son and heir of the Snow-Shod clan. He was one of the most powerful nobles in Riften. He was powerfully built blond Nord with a neatly trimmed beard and a deep booming voice. He was enthusiastic about meeting the Dragonborn and proudly lead her on a tour of the Meadery. He let her sample some of their special Black-Briar Reserve label, which had quite a bite to it. When she expressed her admiration for it, he insisted on donating a case to the Dragonguard.  
  
While she didn’t make an issue of it, she also noticed a lot of children hard at work in the meadery. If she hadn’t been told by Karliah, she might have overlooked them. All of the children looked old enough to be apprenticed, and they weren’t doing the heavy jobs, but they were everywhere: sweeping, cleaning, moving bottles and such. On the surface it looked like honest work, but she did notice how tired they all were. It bothered her, especially after hearing Karliah’s report, but she wasn’t going to make an issue out of it and alienate Asgeir.  
  
She waited until she was leaving before she asked Asgeir about his mother. “I understand that your mother is a priestess of Talos? The only priest of Talos in the city if I’ve heard correctly.” Without even thinking about it, her hand drifted to her chest. She couldn’t feel her amulet of Talos through her armor, but she knew it was there.  
  
“Aye, my mother is a priestess of Talos. The only one that stayed in Riften and didn’t change her allegiance to Mara.” He gave her a smile. “Any reason you’re asking?”  
  
“I have questions that I’d like to ask her, as a Priestess of Talos. Since the jarl is indisposed this evening, would it be possible for her to come by?”  
  
“No, none of that now. If the jarl won’t host you tonight, Clan Snow-Shod will claim the honor. When you’re done getting your tour of Riften, come by Snow-Shod Manor. You can meet my mother and my father. We’ll give a proper Nord welcome to the Dragon of the North!”  
  
“I’ll be there with…” she gestured to her escort, “just a few of my retinue.”  
  
Aegeir laughed. “Aye, that’s just a few. We’re honored to host the Dragonborn and the Dragonguard.”  
  
The Riften Fishery was next, and the stench almost overwhelmed her. It was an important business owned by Bolli Ice-Blood. The Ice-Bloods were a minor clan and supposedly not aligned with the Black-Briars. Bolli proved to be a kindly older Nord with a pointed beard. He was enthusiastic to meet the Dragonborn and insistent that she call him Bolli and not Lord Ice-Blood. He was also puzzled as to why the Dragonborn wanted to meet him. Daenerys told him the truth, she was just looking in on the more important businesses in Riften. While Bolli seemed to be a naturally humble man, his fishery and the Snow-Shod farms kept Riften fed. Bolli seemed to be well-liked by his workers, and he didn’t hire just Nords. Daenerys saw a lot of Argonians working in the fisheries. She also saw quite a few children. However, these children weren’t working hard like the ones at the Black-Briar Meadery. Indeed, some of the younger ones were playing around instead of being on task.  
  
Daenerys decided to dig for information. “Bolli, I see a lot of young workers. Are those all your children? Or are they apprentices?”  
  
“None of them are my children.” He shook his head. “I wish that I had children of my own, but I’m not so blessed. No, I hire them from Honorhall Orphanage. When they’re old enough the orphanage tries to get them jobs. I pay the orphanage for their labor and that keeps food on their table. To tell you the truth, I hire more than I need. According to Maven many of them can’t find jobs. Those who don’t often end up on the streets. Most of the girls end up in the brothels, some of the boys as well. If I can teach some of them a skill, it’s worth it.”  
  
Daenerys nodded. That matched up with what she heard from Karliah. The orphanage really did take care of the younger kids, but it wasn’t the charity that Maven Black-Briar claimed it was. The orphanage more than paid for itself by working the older children. They also sold children both to the brothels and as thralls to the Snow-Shods. A few of the orphans ended up with apprenticeships, due to kind-hearted people like Bolli, but most of them didn’t. “Well, I’m heading there next. I guess I will see for myself.”  
  
“Good for you. I’m sure they’ll love to meet the Dragonborn. Would you mind walking these urchins back with you? It’s getting close to closing time.”  
  
Daenerys smiled. “That won’t be a problem at all.”


	28. Chapter 26

# Chapter 26

Loredas, the 2nd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

The crowds that had been following her eased up a little, but a few people still waited for her outside of the fishery. Daenerys spent a few minutes talking to some of the most vocal, and she healed three people. After that she set off to Honorhall Orphanage with a half-dozen orphans in their young teens in tow. The children were in awe of her, but they reacted differently. Some were shy and hid behind the other children. Some were puffed up with their own importance. A few were brave enough to ask questions.

“Lady Dragonborn, ma’am?” asked a dark-haired lad. He was one of the older kids, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He had a little scrub of whiskers on his cheeks and was already taller than she was. He held the hand of a shy girl who ducked behind him anytime she noticed Daenerys looking at her. “Why are you going to Honorhall? We’re not anyone important.”

Daenerys offered him a reassuring smile. “I have a fondness for orphans. Not many know it, but I was an orphan myself. My father died before I was born. My mother died giving birth to me. It’s not easy growing up on the streets. I wish someone had taken me in and cared for me.” She looked over to Harrald Law-Giver. “I think it is a very good thing the Black-Briars have done, and I want to see it for myself.”

Harrald looked like she had handed him a difficult puzzle and demanded he solve it immediately. “I didn’t know that about you. Some of the stories call you a queen, but none of them mention a humble childhood.”

Daenerys shrugged. She really hadn’t told anyone except Brelyna her full story. However, it suited her purposes to let this part out now. It gave her a reason to visit Honorhall. “Oh, I’m nobly born, but my family was on the losing side of one Westeros’ many civil wars. I grew up in exile in Essos.”

“It’s like a bard’s story!” said the shy girl. “You really really were a princess in exile.”

Daenerys laughed. “I suppose, but you know that growing up on the streets is not at all like the bard’s songs.”

Their arrival at the orphanage ended their conversation. From the outside Honorhall Orphanage looked like most of the buildings in Riften. It was constructed from logs with thatch for a roof. The windows were narrow and covered with iron bars. Daenerys suspected that was to keep the children inside rather than keep thieves out. She strode up to the front door and entered without knocking.

Beyond the entrance was what was a waiting area. There were several benches along the walls, but no one in sight. However, she could easily hear a woman yelling at the children.

“Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Grelod,” replied a chorus of children.

“And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Ever!” The woman was practically gleeful as she crushed their dreams. “Nobody needs you; nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world. Now, what do you all say?”

“We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness,” replied the children. Their voices had no fire to them. Just the tired familiarity of rote repetition.

“That's better. Now scurry off, my little guttersnipes.”

The timing of overhearing that conversation couldn’t have been better. Her plan in coming here was to hurt and embarrass the Black-Briars. She had hoped to find enough proof for Harrald to be able to say that it was justified. That conversation was proof enough. Karliah claimed that luck favored those who served Nocturnal. Perhaps some of that luck was coming her way as well. Whether or not that was true, that was more than enough evidence for her to act. After hearing that speech, it would also be a pleasure. “Out of my way,” she commanded to Val and the Dragonguard as she pushed past them. “Stay in earshot but let me handle this.” With that she marched into the next room.

Bunkbeds stacked three high lined the walls in the room. The children were all gathered around an old woman who turned to face Daenerys as she entered. The woman was grey of hair. Her skin was shriveled like an old apple. Daenerys knew her from Karliah’s description, Grelod ‘the Kind’.

Her face twisted into a sneer as Daenerys entered. “What do you want? You have no business being in here!”

Daenerys laughed at her. “I have very good reasons for being here. Grelod the Kind, I find you without honor. A true Nord knows the importance of family. Your job is to be a mother to these children, and I find you wanting. You will resign now.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t answer to you. I answer to Maven Black-Briar and she knows exactly how I treat these useless layabouts. I’m not here to kiss their hurts. I’m here to keep them in line and teach them to respect their elders. Now, get out before I call the guard!”

Daenerys smiled at Grelod. “I am a Companion of Jorrvaskr and declare you to be without honor. You will resign.”

“Companion?” asked Grelod confused but still glaring at her.

Daenerys punched Grelod in the face with her mailed fist. The old hag went flying back and fell to the ground. “Get up and fight! I want you to say two words: I quit.” Daenerys kicked her while she was down.

The orphans started screaming and yelling with glee. “Hit her again!” “Companion!”

“You will say the words, or I will continue!” Daenerys kicked Grelod again as she tried to roll away.

“No! No! You can’t! The Black-Briars! Maven! Stop!”

“The Black-Briars aren’t here, Grelod, and this is a matter of honor. They have no say.” Since Grelod wouldn’t stand, Daenerys kicked her again. Grelod held out an arm and Daenerys felt it snap.

“Mercy!” begged Grelod. “Mercy please!”

“What mercy did you show these children?” Grelod wasn’t moving much so Daenerys reached down and picked her up off the floor by the hair and pulled her upright. Grelod was taller than her, but was having trouble standing. “Say the words!”

“I quit! I quit!” screamed Grelod. “Just don’t hit me anymore.”

“Leave this place now. Do not pack your things. Never return.”

Grelod staggered out of the room while children broke out into cheers of glee. “I can’t believe it! Grelod is gone! She’s really gone!” “Hurrah! Hurrah!” “We love you, Companion!” “Then she went pow to the mouth!” “Grelod the Kind is gone at last! We’re saved!” “That was even better than the Dark Brotherhood.”

Daenerys was amused by most of the children cheering her on. She had faced down dragons. Grelod was nothing but an old bully who picked on little kids. However, the mention of the Dark Brotherhood got her attention. “What was that about the Dark Brotherhood?”

The children got quiet fast and they all backed away from a little blonde-haired girl.

Daenerys realized she might have spoken too harshly, especially to these children. If anything Karliah had understated how poorly they were mistreated. She knelt down to put herself closer to their eye level. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was an orphan once, just like you. What’s your name?”

The child did a passable curtsey. “Runa Fair-Shield, Companion ma’am. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

Fair-Shield? That was a compound name, probably a Nord clan name. “I understand, but what did you mean by the Dark Brotherhood?”

Runa answered hesitantly at first. “A little boy lived here, Aventus Aretino. He was nice but really quiet and sad because his mother just died. He ran away. He said he was going home to Windhelm and he was going to get some murderer people called the Dark Brotherhood to come here and kill Grelod. I was really hoping he did, but you punching her in the face was even better.”

“And kicking her while she was down!” “And picking her up by her hair!”

“Thank you, Runa.” She looked around at the children. “I need you all to listen. The Dark Brotherhood is bad. They’re evil. Do you know the cost of calling the Dark Brotherhood?”

There was a lot of fearful headshaking and some muttering, but no one spoke up.

Daenerys wished she didn’t. Karliah had filled her in on the details of the Black Sacrament along with the rumors that the Black-Briars had connections to the Dark Brotherhood. “You have to pray to Sithis and offer up a human heart. Whether or not the Dark Brotherhood comes, Sithis eats your soul, and you will never ever see Sovngarde.”

There were gasps around the room. “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t know.” “I’m sorrier.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m a hero of Jorrvaskr, and it is our job to uphold Nord honor and traditions throughout Skyrim. If you need a hero, that is where you go for help. Now, go play for a little while. Since I made Grelod leave, I have to take responsibility for making things right.”

Daenerys stood up. Her followers were looking in from the doorway. She went over to join them and spotted the dark-haired orphan who had the bravery to question her as they walked from the fishery to the orphanage. “You lad, I never got your name, but look after the young ones for a while.”

The boy bobbed his head up and down rapidly. “Yes, ma’am, er Lady, er Dragonborn. I will, but you should talk with Miss Michel. She’s nice. Not like Grelod. She never locks people in the room unless Grelod makes her, and sometimes she sneaks us extra food.”

“You can be sure I’ll speak with Miss Michel. Go on now.” Daenerys waited for the boy to leave before she turned her focus to Harrald Law-Giver. “Am I going to have trouble with your mother about this?”

Harrald shook his head. “No, I heard with my own ears how she was treating the children, and you are a Companion. It was a matter of honor. Maven, on the other hand, has a temper. She won’t like you meddling in her affairs like this.”

Daenerys shrugged. “So be it. I will do what is right, not what is easy.” She beckoned Val over to her. “Val, do you feel up to giving another piggy-back ride? I need you to go back to camp and bring Aana here. She’s raised three children of her own. She can manage things here until something permanent can be worked out.”

Val nodded. “I’ll go get her. Maybe you could make it permanent. She’s a decent cook, but she is lame and too old to be wandering Skyrim.”

Daenerys smiled. “That is an excellent idea if she is agreeable. Off with you.”

“As you will.” Val bowed to her and left.

Harrald sighed. “Maven isn’t going to like that either.”

“I don’t care if Maven likes it or not. I care about the children. I bet Maven won’t like what I’m going to do next even more.” She gestured to everyone else. “All of you except Sofija split up and search this place. I want you to find the ledger for this place. Search Grelod’s room top to bottom. See if there is a second ledger or a stash of coin. Anyone that cruel to children is probably crooked as well. I also want you to find me this Miss Michel.”

“You don’t have to look for me, I’m here.” A woman stepped forward, obviously an Imperial by her features, her deeply tanned skin, and her dark hair. She looked like frightened deer, ready to bolt, yet she walked forward step by step. “It’s Constance Michel. I was in the kitchen. The walls are thin. I heard it all. Are you going to beat me down as well, Companion?”

“Should I? I’ve heard you are nice, but you also knew that Grelod was at least a bully, and I suspect much worse. Are you just the kind hand while Grelod is the fist?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that. I never thought the orphans deserved to be treated the way that Grelod treated them. They’re just children. They do need a firm hand sometimes. I think they just wore her down and she became bitter. I would like to stay and help, even if I have to work for this Aana woman that you’re putting in charge.”

“Well then, I’m sure you know everything that has been going on around here. This place has secrets. Speak them now. Otherwise, I can only believe that you were a willing party to everything that went on here.”

Constance Michel looked down at her feet. She took a deep breath and looked back up. “I didn’t agree with many things, but jobs are scarce here in Riften. Grelod was in charge. I didn’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice, Constance.” She knew that she had little right to judge this woman. In her dreams she still heard the tolling of the bells and the screams as King’s Landing burned. “Sometimes we don’t make the right choice. We choose what we want or what is easy. Then we have to live with that forever. Here is your chance, Constance. Make your choice.”

Constance nodded her head and started to speak. It was worse than Karliah believed. Young mothers who dropped off their children in the night – no questions asked. Meals withheld for the smallest infraction. Children shackled to the wall in dark closets for more than a day without food or water. Children whipped and beaten until they bled. Two children beaten until they couldn’t walk. The money from the children working paid for the food many times over, but they had to pay rent to the Black-Briars. A child hired for a day to the Ratcatchers’ Guild who didn’t come back because he was eaten by skeevers. Teenagers sold as thralls to various nobles to work their lands. Pretty boys and girls sold to the brothels. Smaller children sold to the Ratcatchers’ Guild. Constance called it a finder’s fee, but she said it in a sarcastic manner that revealed she knew it was wrong. She also knew the money coming in didn’t match the money going out.”

“You have to understand,” said Constance through tears, “That as bad as it sounds it was still better than the streets. These children have nowhere else to go. Some of them get out. Gods bless Bolli. More of them become fishermen than anything else. Some end up working in Maven’s meadery. I tried to make it better for them. I did. I’m not a knight in shining armor like you, so I helped in little ways.” She lifted her head up. “Judge me as you will, Companion.”

“You may be Imperial by blood, but you just showed you have the heart equal to any Nord. I leave your judgment to the gods, for I find your deeds honorable.”

“Truly? I… Thank you, Companion. I should go see to the children now.” She headed off to the room with all the beds.

“Lady Targaryen,” said Harrald formally once Constance left. “I know you are angry. It shows on your face. Your fury is righteous. What Grelod did was a stain on the honor of every true Nord. It will bring shame on Clan Black-Briar because they sponsored this orphanage. They should not have let it happen. That this place is called Honorhall makes me sick, but I think you are making a mistake searching for the ledgers.”

Daenerys eyed Harrald suspiciously. Was he just trying to cover for the Black-Briars? “Explain it to me.”

“While what Grelod did was dishonorable, none of it was illegal. When Maven started this orphanage, my mother declared the matron of the orphanage to be the guardian for all the orphans within it. So Grelod was legally their guardian. Parents and guardians have no limits on how they discipline their children. That’s a matter of honor, not law. As for the ledgers, are you looking into the finder’s fees? And selling children as thralls?”

“Yes,” agreed Daenerys. “And also to see whether Grelod and Maven made gold from selling these orphans.”

“I thought as much.” He sighed. “Parents and guardians are allowed to sell their children as thralls. It’s not even that uncommon in the Rift. If a family has too many mouths to feed and can’t arrange a marriage or an apprenticeship, selling their child as a thrall may be the best they can do. The child gets a patron, a place to live, and food. The parents get some gold to live upon.”

Daenerys frowned. Thralls in Skyrim were not quite the same as slaves in Essos or peasants in Westeros. However, from what she had the differences in law between slave, peasant, and thrall mattered less than how honorable was the man who owned them. From what she had observed in Skyrim thralls lived much like freeman. Their homes weren’t as nice. They had to meet their quotas, but they were allowed to sell the surplus. They could save up their money and buy their freedom. Under law they could even buy the land they worked. Few ever saved enough to buy their way free. They spent what little coin they had, but it seemed little different from the taxes that peasants in Westeros paid and much better than slavery in most of Essos. “I wasn’t aware that parents could sell their children. What about the brothels?”

“Selling your children is not honorable, but you can’t eat honor. It happens, especially in Riften, and as for the brothels…” He paused clearly thinking it through. “Are you familiar with the Guild Act?”

Daenerys shook her head. It sounded like something she should know about, but this was still her first year in Tamriel. She couldn’t learn everything overnight. “What is the Guild Act?”

“It’s an old law. It goes back to the Second Era and it’s the law that established guilds within the Empire. Anyone can make their own clothes, but if you want to set up a shop and sell the clothes that you make, then you have to belong to the Tailor’s Guild. You can kill your own rats, but if you hire someone, they have to belong to the Ratcatchers’ Guild. And, any whore can sell herself on a street corner or in a tavern, but you have to belong to the Prostitutes’ Guild to work in a brothel.”

Daenerys could see where this was going and she didn’t like it. She waved at Harrald to hurry it up. “I understand that much. Continue.”

“For prestigious guilds, like the Blacksmith’s Guild, you need a sponsor and the parents usually have to pay a hefty apprenticeship fee. Other guilds, like the Ratcatchers’ Guild and the Prostitutes’ Guild pay the parents a finder’s fee to apprentice their child. It’s not illegal, just… dishonorable. If it is any consolation, the Prostitutes’ Guild does look after their own. They’re not common whores. They have to pay steep guild fees, but they get paid. They can also work their way up the ranks, even become a madame of their own brothel if they’re ambitious enough.”

Daenerys heard what Harrald was saying and she hated that it was allowed, that it was legal, even if it was dishonorable. She had been bought and sold, too. The words of Viserys came back to her, “I’d let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army.” She clenched her fists within her gauntlets and held back the angry words she wanted to scream in Harrald Law-Giver’s face, no she wanted to Shout **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** at him and fry him where he stood. She breathed in and out, slow and deep, calming herself. “I understand. What happened here was legal. It lacked honor. I still want to see the ledger. I still want to see where the money went. Maven Black-Briar is not a poor parent with too many mouths to feed. She is a noble, so I cannot call challenge on her as a Companion, but if she made money off the suffering of these children, I will make her deeds known to the world.”

Harrald looked like a scolded child, head drooping down. “I hear you, Lady Targaryen. I offer my apologies if I offended you. I also urge you not to make accusations without proof.”

“This situation offends me, Harrald.” She took another slow deep breath. “You did what a good advisor should and offered me counsel. I will be having my quartermaster review any ledgers we find.”

Searching the orphanage didn’t take very long. Some of the evidence was damning. There were three small rooms barely more than closets with bloodstained shackles. Constance Michel produced a ledger, but they couldn’t find a second. However, they did find a loose floorboard under the bed in Grelod’s room. Hidden beneath the floorboard was a large bag with more than two hundred septims in it. Daenerys flipped through the ledger and found line items listed as finder’s fee and bondage price, but there were no names mentioned. However, she wasn’t skilled at counting money. Daenerys handed it to Faralda to be kept safe until Camilla could go over it.

While they were searching, some of the older children returned from Black-Briar Meadery and other jobs they worked during the day. All of them were excited to hear that Grelod was gone. They also wanted to know what would happen to them in the future. Daenerys explained that she would be leaving her sworn follower, Aana, in charge with Constance Michel supporting her until something permanent could be worked out. Fortunately, Val arrived with Aana before long. She immediately served the children dinner to calm them down and reassured them that the orphanage would still be their home.

Once Daenerys was satisfied that Honorhall Orphanage was under control she called her people together. “I would be tempted to stay longer, but I have been invited to dinner with Clan Snow-Shod. I’m planning to head there now.” She looked over to Harrald. “Will you be accompanying me?”

Harrald shook his head. “I must go tell my mother what happened here. The Black-Briars are her strongest allies. She needs to know what happened.”

“Interesting. She is not too indisposed to interrupt when it impacts the Black-Briars, but she couldn’t even meet with me today.”

“This is an emergency,” replied Harrald but he looked away from her gaze.

“Is it? Your mother can send a hundred men to fetch me but then makes me wait. However, when it impacts the Black-Briar Clan, then it is an emergency. Go, Harrald Law-Giver. You have made it clear where the priorities lie in Riften.”

Harrald floundered for several moments before he fell back on propriety. “Lady Targaryen, I am sorry that I have given offense. I did enjoy showing you the city. I would remind you that my mother is planning to throw a feast in your honor tomorrow. However, duty calls and I must go.” Harrald left through the door at a quick march.

Daenerys wasn’t sorry to see him go. She was fairly certain that he had been blind to Maven Black-Briar’s corruption, but he had been quick to make excuses for her. Although, it seemed his eyes were starting to open. That might make him more useful in the future, but for now she had other business.

She looked around her followers. “Smile everyone. What happened here was horrible, but remember: the witch was driven out and the orphans will be treated right in the future. Good has triumphed over evil. Now, we’ve all been invited to a feast courtesy of Clan Snow-Shod. Let’s go dine on their food, drink their mead, and brag how we brought honor to Honorhall!”

That shook off the gloom off most of her people. Sophia pumped her fist in the air and let out a whoop. Val gave out a big booming laugh. Barbas barked enthusiastically. Even Lydia the Glum smiled.

Daenerys led everyone outside. Due to the long summer days of Skyrim the sun was up despite the late hour. Perhaps because of the time, there surprisingly only a few onlookers shouting for her attention. Some of them were the same as had been trailing before, but she waved at them anyway as they pushed forward.

With no warning whatsoever she felt a harsh stabbing pain in her neck. She staggered on her feet and fell on her ass. Her hands flew up searching for the source of the pain and she found an arrow sticking out of her neck. People were yelling and screaming. Barbas was barking. She was screaming. She smelled blood and realized it was her own. Three Dragonguard carrying tower shields rushed forward and linked shields. They tilted them up and stood over her.

Suddenly Sofija was above her. “I have to get the arrow out. I’m sorry.” Sofija grabbed hold of the arrow and ripped it out.

Daenerys screamed again, but as much as it hurt was fading. She felt dizzy and weak. She pulled for her magic, her hand weakly flailing for her amulet of Talos, but her mailed hand just scratched the hard skysteel of her breastplate. She felt so cold. She tasted blood. Someone was over her. Was that Jon Snow? No. It was Sofija…


	29. Chapter 29

# Chapter 27

Loredas, the 2nd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys came to with her head in Sofija’s lap and the taste of blood and healing potion in her mouth. The three Dragonguard stood about her. Their tower shields blocked most of her view, but she heard no sounds of fighting. Daenerys reached up and felt her neck. She found only flesh, no arrow. “I’m alive?”

“Yes, my thane. You’re alive.” Sofija heaved a sigh of relief and smiled at her. She never smiled. “You were very lucky. The arrow passed through the side of your neck. You lost a lot of blood, but I was able to force potions down your throat.”

“Thank you.” Daenerys still felt woozy. Potions. Plural. The side of the neck. That would have been a lethal wound on Planetos. Without healing potions she would have quickly bled out and died. She lowered her hand from her neck to her chestplate. She couldn’t reach through metal to grasp her amulet, but she still knew it was there. “Talos, please, heal me.” The faith came easily, but holding together the other two parts, Focus on herself, Will for her magicka to flow, was difficult when she felt so weak. Yet, it worked. The magic flowed and she felt her strength returning and with it her ability to focus. “Thank you,” she said again. Not to Sofija, but to Talos. As she spoke the words, she promised herself that she would no longer hide her amulet of Talos. From now on she would wear it openly where all could see. She stared into Sofija’s gaze and saw that she was shaken. “Thank you, as well, Sofija. I would have died without you.”

Sofija glanced to the side, avoiding her gaze. “You shouldn’t thank me. I failed. It is my duty to protect you.”

“You did protect me, Sofija. You saved my life.” Daenerys pushed herself up to a sitting position which wasn’t very comfortable. Armor wasn’t made for sitting on the ground. She could see the arrow lying close to her on the ground. It was a wicked looking thing with a barbed head and soaked in her blood. “How many ambushed us?”

“One, I think,” said Sofija. “We should find out shortly. I hear people returning now. Did you know that Barbas can leap from the ground to a rooftop?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” No normal dog could do that, but Barbas only looked like a normal dog.

Val returned with a corpse over his shoulder. “Good to see you survived, Lady Targaryen.” He dropped the corpse down in front of her. “I’m afraid Barbas got to him first. We’ll get no answers from him.”

Daenerys looked at the corpse. The first thing she noticed was that he was an Argonian. The second thing she noticed was that he was missing his throat. The jagged edges on the wound looked like bite marks. She looked over the corpse careful hoping for some kind of clue. He was wearing tight-fitting leather armor of dark greys and browns, good colors for sneaking and hiding, but now marred by claw marks. A dog’s claws shouldn’t rend leather armor like that, but these wounds had torn through the leather and ripped open his flesh. Barbas had never done that much damage with his claws before. All he had shown was the strength of a dog his size, but he’d leaped to the rooftop as well. Clearly, he had been holding back.

Faralda crouched down and touched the armor. “We might get some answers. The armor is all enchanted. Poison resistance on the armor, extra bow damage on the cowl, the boots are muffled for silent movement, and the gloves… are difficult to read. It’s like damage enchantment, but more vicious. I need more time. Was there a bow, or arrows?”

Lydia handed Faralda a bow. “The arrows scattered across the rooftop when Barbas killed him. Should I go fetch them?”

Daenerys shook her head. “No. I don’t want to stay around that long.” What Faralda had found already was concerning enough. Enchantments like that didn’t come cheap. This wasn’t a member of the Thieves’ Guild who had turned assassin because he had been offered enough gold. The dead Argonian had been a professional killer. Daenerys pushed herself up off the ground. Sofija reached out to her. Daenerys gladly accepted her help as she regained her feet. She looked around. The three Dragonguard with tower shields had spread out a little to give her room, but they were facing the streets of Riften as if they expected another attack. Beyond them were only her trusted followers. The crowds that had stalked her had apparently made themselves scarce once blades came out. She looked to Faralda. “Anything on the bow?”

“Elven made and enchanted for accuracy,” replied Faralda. “It’s a deadly bow. I don’t think Ull or Aela has a bow this good.”

Sofija crouched over the corpse as well. “There’s also a beltpouch.” She flipped it open and found two potion bottles. One bottle was tinted red, the color universally used for healing potions. The other was tinted black. “Based on what we’ve seen so far, I would guess the black is poison.”

Daenerys nodded. That would fit. The arrow that pierced her neck might have been poisoned, which might have made the difference on a lesser wound. With the shot to her neck, the bleeding had almost killed her. If it wasn’t for healing potions, she would be dead. She looked to the building across from the Honorhall Orphanage. That’s where this assassin must have hidden. From up there he had an easy view of the doorway. From there he would have a clear shot at anyone exiting. He also should have had an easy escape route: slide down the other side of the roof, jump from rooftop to rooftop for a few blocks and then dive into Lake Honrich. Argonians could breathe underwater. He would have gotten away clean if it wasn’t for Barbas. This hadn’t been a fanatical attack like the one at Ivarstead. This had been a cold and methodical assassination attempt that had almost succeeded.

Barbas walked up to her with his head down low and his tail drooped low. <I shouldn’t have killed him. You can’t torture the dead for answers. I’m sorry.> Rather than a bark she heard a whine in addition to the words.

Daenerys bent down and scratched Barbas behind his ears. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re a good boy, Barbas. Without you he would have gotten away. Was he alone?”

<Yes, his was the only scent up on the roof.> He bumped her side with his head.

Daenerys knelt down and hugged him hard. “Thank you, Barbas.”

Barbas responded by licking her face right on the lips. <You’re welcome.>

Daenerys spluttered a little and wiped at her face as much as she could while wearing gauntlets. His action was totally unexpected and so close to the actions of a real dog. For a moment she almost forgot she’d nearly died. Then reality reasserted itself. They couldn’t linger here in the streets. They needed to get moving, and everyone was looking to her to provide leadership. She clamped down on her fear and turned to face her followers.

“Thank you all. You saved my life.” She looked at her men-at-arms. “The shield wall against the arrows.” She looked at Sofija. “Healing me.” She waved her hand to encompass everyone. “And the rest who stood ready when I was injured.”

She considered the corpse. What to do now? This attack was completely different from the squidskulls in Ivarstead, so most likely there was someone else behind it. Probably the Black-Briars, but possibly the Thieves’ Guild or someone else. She briefly considered hiding the corpse or having Faralda incinerate it. Leave whoever sent the assassin with no clue as to what happened. However, there had been witnesses that had fled. Rumors would fly. Because she was the Dragonborn, most people would take her word that the Argonian attacked first, but whether the Black-Briars hired the assassin or not, they would try to turn this against her. Trying to hide the corpse would just give them ammunition.

No, trying to hide, being defensive was the wrong move. She had pushed the Black-Briars and they pushed back. Her political power was based on her position as the Dragonborn, a hero. She had to push the Black-Briars back harder while casting them as villains. She didn’t want to hide. She wanted witnesses.

“Now!” She clapped her hands. “Here is what we’re going to do. Strip the Argonian naked. We’re keeping his armor and weapons. They’re spoils of battle.” And valuable spoils because of their enchantments. Also, Faralda might learn something from the mystery enchantment. “We’re going to parade his corpse through the city. I want him hoisted up on spearpoint and carried above us where all can see.”

There were a lot of surprised looks coming her way. It was one of the spearmen, Olfar, who spoke up. “We don’t have crosspieces on our spears. He’ll slide down.”

“Good point, Olfar.” Daenerys nodded at him. “Lydia, head back into the orphanage. Get some short pieces of wood and some rope or twine. I don’t care if you have to break a chair to get the wood. Pay Constance Michel for whatever you take. We’re not thieves, but make it quick.”

Lydia thumped her chestplate. “Yes, my thane.” She took off running.

“My thane?” asked Sofija. “Why are we making a spectacle of this?”

This wasn’t really this best time or place for a lesson, but Sofija had asked a question that was obviously shared by others. “Because Riften is a corrupt city and rumors will fly. There were witnesses, but they ran away. If we’re not careful, rumors and accusations will paint us as callous murderers of an innocent Argonian. The way to squash a rumor is to get ahead of it and shout your own story. That’s what we’re doing. We’re going to let the people of Riften see what happened with their own eyes. It will also serve as a warning as to how the Dragonguard treats assassins.”

Sofija nodded. “I get it.”

Several others nodded as well. Although she wasn’t sure they all got it. For most of them, it was enough that she had reasons and a plan. Lydia returned shortly, and from the pieces she brought out, she had just smashed a chair. Her men quickly tied crosspieces on their spears. It took them three tries to get the Argonian up in the air, but they managed it.

“Vignar,” commanded Daenerys. “You know this city best. Lead us back to the market and then to Mistveil Keep.”

“You know that we can just go east and get to Mistveil Keep sooner?” asked Vignar.

Daenerys nodded. “I do, but we want to be noticed, and hence the market.”

“Very well, Lady Targaryen. Everyone, follow me.”

Walking along with a corpse held high in the air drew a crowd just as she intended. It also discouraged people from getting too close. Without prompting Vignar started calling out in that loud pompous matter that heralds everywhere used. “Behold! This is the fate of assassins! Thus died a coward that attacked from the shadows! Behold! This is the price of!” and more drivel of that nature.

Daenerys made a mental note to thank Vignar later and ask if he had ever trained as a herald. It would explain his pompous way of speaking. That was for later. At the moment she was too busy waving to the crowds, letting them see her blood-stained armor, and not letting them see that she how shaken she was by her close brush with death.

While she usually enjoyed the adoration of the crowds, it had not escaped her that she almost died. A few fingers to the side and the arrow would have lodged in her throat, perhaps even severed her spine. Her throat was even the likely target. Tiber Septim had once been able to Shout, but after a throat injury he never Shouted again. Aiming for her throat was to silence her even if the arrow didn’t kill her immediately. She wasn’t invulnerable. She had died once before and her memories from that death were back. She remembered her victory. She had won the Iron Throne. She remembered standing there before it with Jon Snow. He told her that she would always be his queen. Then he kissed her and thrust his blade through her heart. She remembered the taste of blood and betrayal and pain. She barely remembered dying. It had happened so fast. Just like the arrow today.

As she marched and waved at the crowd, her fear gave way to anger. She almost died again today, stupidly and pointlessly. She couldn’t afford mistakes like that. Sofija simply wasn’t ready to lead the Dragonguard. She might never be ready. She wasn’t the Dragonborn. The prophecy was that the Dragonborn could defeat Al-Du-In, not anyone else. Even Nocturnal and Barbas agreed on that. If she died, the world burned.

She should be focusing on saving the entire world, not these stupid political games with the Black-Briars. Her promise to Nocturnal had only bound her to help Karliah against Mercer. She could have just ignored the corruption and crime in Riften… This had been her choice. She had chosen to get involved. She had chosen to help, and her small council had smiled at her as she finally gave in to what they expected of the Dragonborn. They expected no less of her. It was even in Jon’s song, “an end to the evil of all Skyrim’s foes”. All their foes. Not just the dragons. Was she foolishly believing her own legend? She had made that mistake before and burned King’s Landing believing she was right.

On the other hand, the Black-Briars were undoubtedly corrupt. Honorhall Orphanage was just one of their scams according to Karliah. Maven had one foot in the illegal and one foot in the legal and used both to her profit. The Black-Briars were choking the life out of the Rift as they filled their own coffers. Taking them down had felt right. She wanted to be the hero this lifetime and not the villain. Yet, she also knew that Riften’s troubles ran deeper than one corrupt family.

Vignar guided them back to the Fishery and across a bridge. They gathered more attention as they passed through the Riften market area. They stopped three times due to the press of the crowds. Daenerys answered questions and explained that the cowardly assassin had tried and failed to kill her. After the second time they stopped, the rumors were obviously racing through the market faster than they could push their way through the crowds.

As they were leaving the central market, Vignar waved to a large circular building on their right. “That’s the Bee and Barb. I stayed there when I was in Riften before. It is Riften’s largest inn. It’s a little bit seedier than the Bannered Mare back in Whiterun, but still a decent place. The innkeeper is an Argonian. Maybe she would know something about our ‘friend’.” Vignar jerked his thumb at the bloody corpse over their heads.”

Daenerys considered what Vignar said, and what he didn’t say. The Argonian innkeeper might have noticed another Argonian in Riften, but the Bee and Barb was hardly the only inn in Riften. More importantly, Jon Battle-Born, Olfina Grey-Mane, and Camilla were supposed to be staying at the Bee and Barb along with two of the Dragonguard. Jon was there to sway the crowd with stories and songs about the Dragonborn. The rest of them where there so that Karliah or Galdrus could get in contact and pass along updates. That had made sense when they were making plans. After being ambushed Daenerys wasn’t sure if it was wise of her to divide her forces. Jon and Olfina were skilled warriors, but Camilla would be a liability in a fight.

“Incoming,” announced Sofija interrupting her thoughts.

Daenerys saw two dozen Riften guards pushing others aside and heading toward them. That was a large force to be marching about town. She could pick out Hemming Black-Briar in their midst. So, it was time for the Black-Briars’ next move. She took a deep breath and pushed away her memories. She could wallow in doubt and self-pity later. This was going to be an important and public confrontation.

Hemming slithered out in front of his men like a snake gliding out of the tall grass. “Lady Targaryen, we heard there was an incident at Honorhall Orphanage. The jarl sent us to investigate that, and instead you are parading a corpse through the streets.” Hemming did a poor job of pretending to be shocked. He sounded all too pleased about it. “Explain yourself.”

Daenerys shrugged as if she had not a care in the world. “This coward attacked me from the shadows. I survived. Now he’s dead. That happens quite frequently to people that try to kill me.” She spoke loud enough so the crowd could hear her every word, and she smiled at Hemming the whole time.

“Tried to kill you? That’s concerning. Then I’m glad you survived.” The slight sneer in his tone made that a lie. “Do you have any witnesses? Other than your own people, of course.”

Daenerys heard murmurs in the crowd, but she kept her eyes on Hemming. “I am a Companion of Jorrvaskr, as is my Shield-Brother, Vignar of the Clan Grey-Mane. You have my word that is what happened.” She really hoped that Hemming would accuse her of lying. It would give her an excuse to challenge him.

“Of course,” agreed Hemming in a tone that clearly implied he didn’t believe her. “In that case as the newly appointed Captain of the Riften Guard, I’m going to insist that you come back with us and explain things to Jarl Law-Giver. She doesn’t particularly like people taking the law into their own hands.”

“Congratulations on your appointment to Captain of the Guard.” And wasn’t that an interesting development? “My, my, how quickly things change. Why just this afternoon the jarl was indisposed and didn’t want to speak with me, and after she had summoned me all the way to Riften. You know, I was never told. Why exactly couldn’t the jarl speak with me earlier?”

“It is not my place or yours to question the jarl,” retorted Hemming. “You need to come and explain to her why you murdered a citizen of Riften.”

“Murder?” asked Daenerys at a volume just below yelling. “Are you saying that I lied when I said this coward attacked me first? Are you saying I cut my own throat and bled all over my armor? Choose your reply wisely, Captain Black-Briar.”

“I misspoke. I do not believe you committed murder.” He spoke like each word cost him gold. “However, you have still killed a citizen or Riften. You must still appear before the jarl.”

“A citizen of Riften? Then you know this cowardly assassin?”

Some boos and hisses came from the crowd.

“No, I don’t know him. He was in Riften, so even if he was not a citizen he is under the protection of the jarl.”

Daenerys nodded. “I would think the jarl would be more interested in my welfare. Funny thing, when I asked for some guards to accompany me about the city this afternoon, I was told there were none available to escort the Dragonborn. Strange, you seem to have quite a few men with you.”

“Enough of this!” demanded Hemming. “You and your party will come with me to see Jarl Law-Giver immediately!”

Daenerys frowned. “Really? I have something to say about that.” Daenerys lifted her head up so she was aiming well over the heads of the Riften Guard. Then she Shouted, “ **Fus** - **Ro** - **Dah**!” Her words exploded in a blast of force that went over the head of Hemming and his forces.

Hemming looked at her slack-jawed as several of his men dived to the ground. Others knelt and a few brave souls merely bowed there heads. Only a few looked anywhere close to being ready to fight. A voice in the watching crowd suddenly cheered, “Dragonborn!” As if it was a signal the crowd suddenly erupted in a cacophony of screams and cheers. Daenerys crossed her arms and kept her focus on Hemming waiting for him to answer her. Hemming just stood there stock-still.

Daenerys turned and faced the crowd. They were all screaming in adoration. She made a quelling motion with her armors, gesturing for them to quiet down. “Please, may I speak?” The crowd didn’t quiet at once, but the volume dropped. “I will go with them. While my men were simply defending me against an assassin, I understand I need to answer some questions. I will go with them. I will still be here in Riften tomorrow and for some time to come.”

There were still a few cries of “Dragonborn” and “Lady Targaryen,” but the crowd settled down.

She smiled at Hemming. “Please, lead the way. I will be glad to finally get an opportunity to speak with Jarl Law-Giver.”

Hemming didn’t say anything to her. He merely nodded shakily and turned to his men. “Back to Mistveil Keep.” He stepped between his men into the middle of their formation as they turned about-face.

Daenerys fell in behind them. As she did she gestured Vignar to her. “Shield-Brother, would you make my apologies for me to the Snow-Shods? If they offer, stay for dinner. If they ask questions, tell them about Honorhall Orphanage, the assassin, and what just happened. Use your discretion on answering any other questions, and would you please check on Camilla before you go?”

Vignar laughed. “I understand.” He bowed low. “I hear and obey, Dragon of the North.”

Daenerys nodded at Vignar. Despite his somewhat pompous airs, Vignar did understand the politics. He would do well. When this was over, she was adding him to her small council as her herald. She needed someone who could go and speak on her behalf to other nobles and Vignar had the skills to do it. Something to think about later after she met with Jarl Laila Law-Giver.


	30. Chapter 28

# Chapter 28

Loredas, the 2nd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

When Hemming Black-Briar and his men lead them into the main hall of Mistveil Keep, Daenerys expected to find the hall crowded. Nords placed a lot of value on food and especially the sharing of it. Daenerys believed it was because of Skyrim’s harsh winters. Food was not something that Nords took for granted. They worked hard to store enough away for the long cold months of winter. Jarls held court in long halls that doubled as feasting halls, and every noble and thane was guaranteed a seat at the table. Evening meals could last for hours and involved much drinking, bragging, storytelling, as well as political dealmaking. Given the hour, Daenerys expected to find Jarl Law-Giver presiding over the traditional Nord banquet. However, the hall was almost empty. There was no food on the tables, not even place settings. Indeed, the entire hall looked poor compared even to Winterhold. The tables and chairs were aged, scuffed, and mismatched. Ulfric Stormcloak sent a not very subtle message by keeping his dining hall set with food all through the day. It sent the message that he was a powerful jarl that could easily afford to feed his people. This empty room with the mismatched furniture told the opposite story. It declared that Jarl Law-Giver was weak and impotent. It also confirmed some of the things that she had picked up from talking to Harrald Law-Giver. The coffers of the Rift were clearly low. Given the complaints she had heard in Ivarstead about taxes and tariffs, Daenerys had to wonder – where was all the money going?

Jarl Laila Law-Giver herself wasn’t present. At the end of the hall her throne stood empty. Off to the side of the empty throne stood a few other chairs where two people were dining at a small table. That sent a very different message. Food for a few, but not for all. She recognized one of them immediately, Harrald Law-Giver. She didn’t know the dark-haired woman with the sour expression on her face, but given she had a resemblance to Hemming, that had to be Maven Black-Briar. The large man standing behind Maven wearing steel plate armor had to be her housecarl, Maul.

Hemming Black-Briar hurried forward leaving his men standing around and looking uncertain as to what was to be done. He rushed over to where his mother and Harrald were eating and started talking to them. Daenerys couldn’t hear the conversation going on, so she studied the mannerisms. Maven looked upset. She shook her fork at her son as the two exchanged words. Hemming mostly stood there and nodded. When Maven was done, he gave a bow to his mother and rushed back coming to a halt just in front of her.

“Lady Targaryen.” Hemming addressed her with the sullen reluctance of a scolded child. “Jarl Law-Giver is still indisposed. My mother bids you join us for dinner.”

Daenerys gave him a polite smile, mostly because her being polite seemed to irritate Hemming. Actually, everything she did seemed to irritate Hemming. “If my advisor, Faralda, can come as well, I will happily join you. He has been quite helpful in providing me good counsel on matters of the Rift.”

“The elf? My mother only asked for you,” said Hemming with a sneer.

She had been trading slights with Hemming, but calling Faralda ‘the elf’ was an insult she couldn’t overlook. “Her. Name. Is. Faralda. She is a Mistress of Destruction and is also my advisor, mentor, and friend. You will apologize to her now, or I will call challenge on you, Hemming of Clan Black-Briar.”

Hemming paled but he didn’t apologize. “I will not-”

Maven Black-Briar loudly interrupted. “Is there a problem? Are you throwing my hospitality back in my face?”

Daenerys looked over to the table. Maven was on her feet and her housecarl looked ready to draw his sword. “Yes, there is a problem. Your son just insulted my friend and mentor. He also implied that elves don’t belong at your table. I was about to challenge him as he just refused to apologize.”

“Hemming! That kind of prejudice is for the lower classes. I’ve raised you better than that. Get your tongue out of your ass and apologize.”

Hemming’s face went through shock and shame and ended on anger. “I chose my words poorly. You and… Faralda are welcome to join us for dinner.”

As apologies go, Hemming’s was inadequate. Daenerys glanced to Faralda.

Faralda didn’t seem at all phased. “I’ve heard worse apologies. Let us put this behind us.”

“Very well, we’ll accept your mother’s hospitality and will gladly join you as guests for this meal.” That offered her some protections under the customs of hospitality. Sadly, hospitality was not the same as guest right in Westeros. Guest right was sacred. The gods were said to punish those who broke it. Violating hospitality in Tamriel was a breach of etiquette and resulted in a reputation as boorish, crass, or untrustworthy, depending on how severe the breach, but there were no stories of divine retribution. She turned to the rest of her followers. “Sofija, you’re on housecarl duty. Lydia, I see that Lady Black-Briar only has one housecarl. It would be best if you guided the rest back to the quarters the jarl assigned us. Would you please check up on Raina and Aringoth? I may be a few hours. I would not be surprised if there is a lot to discuss.”

Lydia thumped her chest and then departed at a quick pace. Sofija stayed behind. Barbas did as well, wagging his tail and pretending to be just a dog.

Hemming glanced at Sofija and said nothing. He looked over to Barbas and smiled. “I’m afraid that dogs aren’t allowed in the great hall.”

Daenerys was amused by the petty spitefulness of it, but it didn’t bother her. “Very well. Barbas, stay.” It wasn’t like he couldn’t run across the room in seconds.

Barbas obediently lay down on the floor right where he was.

Hemming started to say something, but apparently caught himself. “This way, Lady Targaryen.”

Daenerys approached the table and waited to be introduced. And waited.

After a long awkward pause when Hemming didn’t introduce them, Harrald Law-Giver stood. “Allow me to make introductions.” He gestured to Faralda. “Faralda holds the position of Mistress of Destruction at the College of Winterhold. On my right, as you are probably already aware is Maven Black-Briar, Matriarch of Clan Black-Briar, trusted confidant and advisor to my mother, the Jarl of Riften. Lastly, we have Lady Daenerys Targaryen, Thane of Whiterun and Winterhold, the Dragonborn, and Ysmir, Dragon of the North.”

Maven had remained seated the whole time. “Welcome to Riften. Please, join us for the meal.”

“Thank you.” Daenerys sat down. Maven had stood up just a few moments ago to scold her son, so she was certainly not too infirm to rise. Her remaining seated for the introduction was either a deliberate insult or a claim that she spoke with the voice of the jarl. Daenerys decided it was probably both but chose to ignore the slight.

The meal was fish served on a bed of greens and surrounded by thinly sliced carrots and potatoes with a generous slice of bread. Unsurprisingly, it was served with mead. Daenerys sampled the fish, smelling it first but detected nothing off. She took a delicate first bite and tasted nothing amiss. The fish was delightfully seasoned, but the possibility that it was poisoned even though her werewolf senses detected nothing made it difficult to enjoy.

“Those are some impressive titles,” observed Maven who had already eaten half her fish and was clearly enjoying her meal.

Daenerys shrugged. She was tempted to give her full list of titles, but that would cause more problems than it was worth. However, there was one title that Harrald had neglected that she needed to claim. “If you say so. Although, I am also a Companion of Jorrvaskr.”

“I was aware of that,” replied Maven. “A title you used to great effect today at Honorhall, or so I am told.”

“I did, indeed,” agreed Daenerys. “I couldn’t stand by and do otherwise. How that woman was treating those orphans was an affront to my honor as a Companion. She deserved what I gave her and more. Even so, she brought it on herself. I gave her ample opportunity to quit.”

“To be honest, I think you were too merciful. She came running to me trying to get me to arrest you – a Companion of Jorrvaskr for upholding Nord honor. Since she admitted she’d been stealing from me as well, I had her executed.”

Daenerys took a sip of mead before replying. Maven had obviously wanted Grelod silenced before her rumors made things worse. “I’m surprised. I understood that the punishment for theft in Riften was imprisonment, not execution.”

“She stole from me!” If Maven was faking her anger, she was very convincing. “She besmirched the Black-Briar name and yours, and she had the audacity to try to shift the blame to you? No, she was an old fool. That kind never change. Death was a kindness.”

Daenerys nodded her agreement. Regardless of why Maven had her killed, Skyrim was a better place without Grelod in it. “There are some that live their lives that way. They believe that life is a game of chance, and the only way to win is to cheat.”

“Very true, but some would say that if you aren’t cheating at war or politics, then you aren’t trying hard enough.” Maven shrugged. “However, I do have a bone to pick with how you handled the aftermath. I heard you put one of your own people in charge. Rather presumptuous of you considering that Honorhall Orphanage belongs to the Black-Briars.”

“You have a point, but I couldn’t very well do otherwise. It was my action that left the orphanage without a matron. I spoke with Grelod the Cruel’s assistant, Constance Michel. She seemed earnest to me and to truly want to do right by the children, but she also stood by while Grelod abused them. I couldn’t leave her in charge, so I put one of my people in place for the night. Aana is a kind soul and has raised children on our own. She will do until you have time to hire someone. I would even go so far as to recommend her for the position. Aana is lame in one foot. She’s not really suited to a life on the road with the Dragonguard.”

“Hmm, we’ll see. I would have to speak with her.” Maven took a sip of her mead. “I hear you also took the ledger?”

Given the short amount of time that had passed, Maven had almost certainly heard about the ledger from Harald. Daenerys was surprised he informed on her so readily. Given the way he was smitten by her, she had not expected him to tattle like a child. At least she had found out he was untrustworthy on something this minor. “I did indeed. We found a large amount of coin hidden under Grelod’s bed. I wanted my quartermaster to look over the ledger and see if she could spot anything out-of-order.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that. There are spells, Alteration magic, and potions that can remove ink. Now that the ledger has passed through a few different hands, anyone could have altered it.”

“Really?” asked Faralda. “That’s an interesting use of Alteration magic that I’ve never heard of before. I’ll have to take your word about the potion. I’ve never been much for Alchemy myself and the Alchemy position at the College of Winterhold has gone unfilled for a long time.”

Maven sighed. “I’m quite sure about it. My daughter, Ingun, is obsessed with Alchemy. It’s not a bad career for some, but she’s a Black-Briar. She’s better than some urchin that grew up on the streets.”

Daenerys took a sip of mead as she unraveled the buried messages. The most important was that even if there was something to find in the ledger, Maven would simply claim it was altered. That didn’t bother Daenerys very much. She had never expected the ledger to convince someone who was already in Maven’s camp. It was just another piece of evidence that could help sway some that already had doubts about Maven. Given Harrald’s tattling tongue, the insult against street urchins was almost certainly a veiled insult at her. Whether his flirtations had been sincere or not, this just confirmed that he couldn’t be trusted. “You would be surprised at what a young girl can do. In my homeland a young warrior maid saved everyone. There is a story going around about her, Arya Stark.”

Maven frowned. “I haven’t heard about that. I’d like to hear it sometime, but I have found that men often underestimate women.”

It was a pity no one here understood her reference to reference to Arya Stark and Littlefinger. Although Maven did seem to realize that there had been a second meaning to her comment. “I believe we have found one point where we can agree wholeheartedly. I have often been underestimated by men to my advantage.”

Faralda shrugged. “I have never found myself underestimated because of my gender, but I would imagine being a mage has a lot to do with that.”

Daenerys laughed. “Faralda, I’ve seen you in combat. I watched you blow apart a charge with one well-placed fireball. Your Icy Spears give dragons pause. Only a fool would underestimate you.” Daenerys was enjoying Maven’s discomfort at being reminded that she was sitting across from two people who could easily kill her and all her allies. That also made it a good time to press her. “But enough about that. I expected to speak to Jarl Law-Giver. Hemming implied that I was in trouble for defending myself from an assassin who tried to kill me. I would like to get that resolved.”

Maven waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. My son was just recently promoted to Captain of the Riften Guard. He was just taking his duties too seriously. I can assure you that you will suffer no consequences for defending yourself, and the Riften Guard will turn over every stone to determine the identity of this assassin and who hired him.”

Daenerys dipped her head in acknowledgment while not smiling too much as Maven gave a half-hearted apology for Hemming’s actions. “On behalf of myself and the Dragonguard, I appreciate the support of Riften.” She also heard Maven’s underlying message. Maven could speak for both the jarl and the Riften Guard. That she did so right in front of Harrald, the heir to the throne, without him even reacting said volumes about just how much power Maven wielded. “I know that Harrald believes there is no Thieves’ Guild, but they are my primary suspect right now,” lied Daenerys.

Maven nodded. “I agree with you. I’m familiar with Harrald’s opinion, but there is plenty of evidence the Thieves’ Guild does exist. I’m sure the Dragonborn being in town has them frightened. They’re lashing out. They even raided my manor last night while I and my children were sleeping there! I promise you that everyone who took part in the attack from planning to execution to fencing the goods will pay!” She ended banged her fist on the table. “Their actions cannot be tolerated. If you find out any solid evidence, even any credible rumors, bring them to me. House Black-Briar and the Riften Guard stand ready to take action against them. The vermin must be stamped out!”

“If I hear anything, I’ll be certain to let you know,” agreed Daenerys without flinching. The subtext was thick. Maven undoubtedly suspected that she had ordered or perhaps commissioned the attack. She did seem genuinely angry at the Thieves’ Guild. Perhaps having Karliah’s actions had been more successful at turning Maven against the Thieves’ Guild than she had hoped. “That goes both ways. I know the Riften Guard far outnumber the Dragonguard, but with myself and Faralda we hit hard. If you need assistance while we are still in Riften, we can help.”

Maven smiled. “A very generous offer. We will certainly let you know if we receive any information on where to strike. Now, you said while you are in Riften. What exactly is it that you are seeking in Riften?”

“Part of it is that the Dragonguard is recovering from the fight with Lok-Nos-Dov. He destroyed two of our ballistae. I left a portion of the Dragonguard in Ivarstead building more. We’ll need those ballistae when we head north. From the rumors I’ve heard there is a dragon roaming the sulfur pools region of Eastmarch. We plan to kill it. Which should be good news for the Black-Briars and for Riften. It would open up the trade route to Windhelm.”

“Yes,” agreed Maven with a smile. “I’ll admit it would be good to be able to ship our mead again. However, you could have stayed in Ivarstead, so again, what brings you to Riften?”

“Many things. We’re hoping to recruit more people for the Dragonguard for one. Resupply for another. I really hadn’t planned to stay in Riften for all that long. I want to visit the Dawnguard. I’m interested in the crossbows they use.”

“Crossbows?” asked Harrald speaking up for the first time. “Why crossbows? I’ll grant you that they hit harder than a weak bow, but a decent bow can hit as hard. They’re also far too slow to reload.”

“True,” agreed Daenerys. “Which is why they aren’t popular. However, dragons are well-armored. That extra bit of power might make all the difference.” She left off that it took at least a decade to make a good archer. Those years weren’t just about mastering the skill. They were also about building up the strength of arm needed to pull a heavy bow. She didn’t have a decade. A man with a crossbow could hit as hard with less training, and with the way dragons flew around on the attack the extra time to reload didn’t matter as much. Harrald was likely an experienced archer, so he saw a crossbow as a poor imitation of a good bow.

“So, you’re not planning on staying in Riften very long?” asked Maven.

“We’re certainly not skipping out on the feast tomorrow. That would be horribly rude to Jarl Law-Giver. Not to mention you cannot get food like this on the road. We’ll probably leave on the morning of the 4th. Perhaps the 5th depending on how business and recruiting goes, but no later than that. It’s almost a week’s journey to Fort Dawnguard and it will be another week back. I want to be back and ready to depart for Windhelm when the ballistae are ready. Although…” Daenerys let out a long sigh. “Depending on how many men we recruit, we may have to stay longer due to finances.”

“Finances?” asked Maven. “I understood the Dragonguard was well-funded.”

Daenerys shrugged. “We are for now, but keeping an army in the field is expensive. Our income comes from killing bandits and raiding Nord barrows. It’s dangerous work, but it pays well. Would you know of any places in the Rift that need to be cleared out?”

Maven smiled. “Actually, yes. There is an old ruin atop the mountain just south of Riften, Forelhost. It’s said to be where the dragon cultists made their last stand. Also, Gonnar has been after me and the jarl to provide troops to retake Fort Greenwall. It’s been overrun with bandits and he thinks we should take it and fortify it. In fact, we have a modest bounty of 500 septims on anyone who cleans it out and brings in the head of the bandit chief.”

Daenerys nodded. “That’s right on our marching route to Eastmarch, so I’ll probably take you up on that at least. I might investigate Forelhost as well.” That site wasn’t mentioned in any of the research she had done, but if Maven’s facts checked out, it was a likely candidate for a Word Wall. “However, not for a couple of days at least. We need another day at least in Riften. Oh, and that reminds me.” She wagged a finger at Maven. “I understand you can’t put the Dragonguard up in Mistveil Keep, but what is this crap about them having to camp outside? Do you know how long it’s been since my men have had leave in a proper city? Ivarstead only has one tavern and it doubles as an inn and maybe half a dozen whores. I know soldiers get a little wild while they’re on leave, but why does the jarl have a problem with my men spending their gold in Riften?”

Maven looked positively flat-footed. “You mean, you’re just going to turn them loose on leave?”

“Well, obviously not all at once. We do have a treasury and supplies that will have to be watched, but with your permission I could put that in my suite and have a half-dozen men watching it in shifts. That would more than suffice.”

Maven’s mouth broke into a wide smile. “Of course, of course. I completely understand. I’ll have the orders changed at once to allow them entrance. I’m sure the taverns and brothels will be thrilled to help your soldiers spend their coin.”

“Thank you, Lady Black-briar. I’ll head out to the camp first thing tomorrow morning and let them know.” Daenerys smiled at having gotten the Dragonguard officially welcomed into Riften. She turned to Hemming. “As Captain of the Riften Guard, could I ask you to please go easy on whatever fools of mine eventually get picked up for brawling?”

Hemming looked to his mother and didn’t reply until she nodded. “Of course, Lady Dragonborn. After all, you’re doing the Rift a service by killing the dragons.”

“True, very true,” agreed Maven. “Which brings us to a very good point. Now, I’m sure you’ve been asked before, but I’d love to hear the story of your fight with the dragon Loknosdov.”

Daenerys smiled back at Maven. Could Karliah be wrong about her? She seemed far more open and honest than she expected. However, not all villains were as obvious as Cersei Lannister. She needed to stay alert no matter how charming Maven could be.


	31. Chapter 29

# Chapter 29

Loredas, the 2nd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

As Daenerys walked back to her assigned suite, she wondered if she had made a mistake. Maven Black-Briar might be corrupt, but she was practical. Maybe she didn’t have to go to war with the Black-Briar family. Unfortunately, it was too late to go back now. The war had already begun. Maven wasn’t a fool. She surely suspected that Daenerys was behind the robbery of Black-Briar Manor. With Mercer hopefully missing, she hopefully couldn’t be certain, but she had to suspect. Add in Honorhall Orphanage and they were already at war. Not to mention that Ull and Aela the Huntress were already off on their own mission. They wouldn’t be back for days, but there was no way to recall them. Whether they were fully successful or not, Maven would be enraged by an attack on the Black-Briar Estates. While there should be no proof tying it to the Dragonguard, Maven would know. It was far too late to consider peace now. She was committed to her plan to destroy the Black-Briars.

It was a strange sort of war. She couldn’t strike directly at Maven because of her connections to Jarl Law-Giver. Maven couldn’t strike at her directly in return because she was practically a religious figure. The Nords didn’t quite worship her for killing dragons and her ability to Shout, but Riften had already had three riots in the last decade. Attacking the Dragonborn would likely start another. Which is why they were both playing this subtle game of undermining each other while making deniable attacks. Daenerys felt like she was winning overall, but the assassination attempt came too close. How many more killers did Maven have at her beck and call?

When Daenerys entered her suite, she wasn’t surprised to find that Vignar wasn’t back yet, but Aringoth was waiting up for her. She sat close to Aringoth so they could speak quietly as she went over the events of the day. Despite the seemingly sturdy walls, someone was likely listening in on all her conversations. Aringoth didn’t have much to report. He had sent a message to Saerlund Law-Giver, the disgraced son of the jarl, but had received no reply. Daenerys was disappointed, but not surprised. She had asked Aringoth to stay in his quarters, so she couldn’t blame him. She spent some time catching him up on her eventful day. Aringoth wasn’t surprised by the assassination attempt. Maven Black-Briar’s enemies often met untimely deaths. He thought parading the corpse through the streets was a brilliant move and laughed as she described Hemming backing down. He was particularly interested in her conversation about Maven and had her go over it as closely as she could remember.

“Maven can be charming when she puts her mind to it, but don’t let her fool you,” he advised. “You know she only agreed to let the Dragonguard into Riften to get them to split up. She is likely hoping to pick off one or two and torture them for information. Just vanish them so you think they ran away.”

“I know, but it gave me the excuse to bring them inside the city walls and I still need more manpower. With the entire Dragonguard, I can easily raid the skooma dens, but not the Thieves’ Guild. Not given what Karliah said about the number of exits and the number of people who can be expected to be drinking in the Ragged Flagon or simply living in the sewers.” If Karliah was right about dozens of exits, she simply didn’t have the forces to watch them all. Not to mention she still didn’t have the map that Karliah had promised her. “We know most of the people living in the sewers and drinking at the Ragged Flagon aren’t in the Thieves’ Guild, but they’ll still fight when we attack. I want them captured, not killed. Especially not the face sculptor.” Daenerys really wanted to acquire the Face Sculptor for the Dragonguard, but she also wanted to capture the thieves alive. She still owed Nocturnal a Nightingale. The problem was that killing was far easier than capturing, so she needed even more troops.

“So, we’re not hitting the Thieves’ Guild tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately, no. If Vignar tracks down Mjoll, we’ll hit the skooma dens. Otherwise, we’ll have to postpone.” She had always planned to hit the skooma dens first. Maven and the jarl had both publicly and repeatedly decried the skooma trade. Taking out the skooma dens would make a statement that the Dragonguard was acting in the best interest of Riften. However, moving on the skooma dens had risks as well. It could reveal she had spies in Riften. Also, Daenerys had implied she wanted to release the Dragonguard on leave in Riften. Maven wouldn’t let her march around Riften with her own private army for long before she evicted the Dragonguard. “We’ll have to improvise. We need Mjoll. I have some ideas for getting more men, but even if they work, we’ll still need luck.”

“Maybe you should call it an early night and get some sleep,” suggested Aringoth. “You have what many would call a long day today and it sounds like another tomorrow.”

Daenerys shook her head. “Vignar isn’t back yet. I’m going to try to talk to Saerlund Law-Giver. He’s known to be in disgrace and confined to Mistveil Keep.”

“I would wish you luck, Daenerys, but you seem to forge your own luck out of sheer determination.”

Daenerys took Sofija and Lydia with her just to be safe. A few questions to servants and she was eventually shown to a small library. It was only one room, nothing compared to the College of Winterhold, but that one room was stuffed full of books. The setting sun lit the room with a ruddy glow. A man who could only be Saerlund was sitting at a table with a book on his left side taking notes on a scroll on his right. He wore the same heavy formal clothes with a fur mantel that were the current fashion. His hair was a rusty brown, cut short. He had a stubble of whiskers on his face as if he had shaved a week ago and hadn’t bothered since.

Saerlund looked up at her and sighed. He set down his quill and stoppered his inkbottle. “Lady Targaryen, come to gloat, have you? To poke fun at the jarl's youngest son?” His words were full of melancholy and defeat and his attitude was like that of a scolded hound expecting to be kicked.

“And why would I do that?” asked Daenerys.

“Because I did something not a soul in this bloodstained house of war has the backbone to do. I dared to speak my mind. I dared speak of the Empire and the lies that have been spread by Ulfric, the leader of the Stormcloaks. Now my mother has stripped me of my heritage and incarcerated me here like a common criminal, and my brother has all but disowned me.”

“I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m not the biggest fan of Ulfric Stormcloak. He all but threw me out of Windhelm, but I wouldn’t call him a liar. Deluded perhaps. Full of his own self-importance, certainly, but I believe he means the words he says.”

Saerlund frowned at her. “That’s not what I expected to hear from the woman who proclaimed herself Ysmir. I thought you were allied with Ulfric.”

Daenerys scoffed. “No, to both. I did not declare myself Ysmir. The Greybeards did and Shouted it from the Throat of the World. I am not hiding from the title they bestowed on me, but I did not seek it. In fact, it has made things more difficult for me and the Dragonguard. As for Ulfric, I already said he all but threw me out of Windhelm, and I counted myself lucky he didn’t throw me in irons.”

“But…” Saerlund frowned then scooted his seat around so he could face her directly. “Perhaps the stories aren’t all true. Why did Ulfric Stormcloak throw the Dragonborn out of Windhelm?”

“First,” said Daenerys. “You need to understand that I had not yet claimed the title of Dragonborn. I was known to be a Tongue, but nothing more. As to why he threw me out, I told him that going to war with the Empire at this time was foolish. Only the Aldmeri Dominion wins when men fight amongst themselves. I proposed a compromise that the Empire might accept so that both sides could get what they want.”

Saerlund snorted. “What kind of compromise could both sides possibly agree to?”

“I suggested that the Empire first recognizes Skyrim as independent, and then Skyrim immediately rejoins the Empire under the same treaty terms that Morrowind enjoys – the freedom to practice religion as it sees fit.”

“That’s admirable, but the Empire would never go for that.”

“That’s what Ulfric said. He accused me of having a ‘soft woman’s heart’ and that I didn’t understand war. Then he went on a long rant about how it wasn’t only about religion, but also about Skyrim being strong when the Empire kept bowing to Aldmeri Dominion.” She smiled. “As for my proposal, I’ve had signs that the Empire would accept my compromise. I’ve spoken with two different Imperial Legates. Both were open to my suggestion and supported my claim of neutrality for the Dragonguard enough to assign me troops on detached duty. There may be concessions required, but it is very much on the table.”

“I see.” Saerlund stroked the scruff on his chin. “Then why Ysmir? That won’t help you.”

Daenerys sighed. “You think I don’t know that? It doesn’t help bring peace between Skyrim and the Empire. The Greybeards didn’t care about that. They’re monks. They cared that I passed their tests, all of them. I am the Dragonborn and if I don’t defeat Al-Du-In then the world burns. So, they proclaimed me to be what I am.”

Saerlund sighed. “And for a moment I thought you weren’t as bad as Ulfric. You’re just as full of yourself as he is.”

“Gods, I hope I’m never become that bad.” Again. She had become worse once. “You don’t believe I’m the Dragonborn?”

Saerlund waved his hand in a quibbling gesture. “You’re a Dragonborn. The Dragonborn? Priests and bards are always telling tales. Even when the story is done, the bragging continues.”

“So, you’re a skeptic. What would it take to convince you?”

“I don’t know. You have killed dragons, but you have an army to help you, and who to say any dragon is Al-Du-In. The legends talk of his size and his black wings, but a dragon is a dragon. If I saw you kill a giant black-winged dragon with my own eyes, and if the dragon attacks stopped after that, then I’d believe you.”

“Very well, I accept.” Daenerys held out her hand.

Saerlund took the hand and shook it. Then he laughed. “You do know that I can’t leave Mistveil Keep? You planning to lure the dragon to Riften?”

“No, I was planning to ask your mother to let you join the Dragonguard. Your political views don’t bother me, and even your brother admits that you’re a good warrior. Your mother would save face with you are far away and doing something honorable, you get to leave and keep your honor, and I get another warrior.”

“That’s…” Saerlund frowned. “Actually, that might work. I can’t say that I thought of joining the Dragonguard. I’ll admit what you’re doing is needed, but I don’t know… I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Let me know what you decide. Now then, I answered a lot of your questions. I have some questions of my own that I’d like answered.”

Saerlund wagged a finger. “Just because I’m on the outs with my family, doesn’t mean I’m going to betray them.”

“Actually, what I want to know might help your family. You’re obviously not someone who accepts what everyone else says without questioning it. So, how is it that everyone in Riften knows the Black-Briars are corrupt, but the Law-Givers think the sun shines out of their asses?”

Saerlund crossed his arms. “I think you have me confused with my brother, Harrald. Mother knows that Maven’s a little dirty and I’m not blind. Ruling isn’t clean. Sometimes you need someone to do the dirty work. Does Maven have too much influence over my mother and Harrald? Yes. Is she taking bribes? Yes. That’s the way the world works. However, Maven has also stuck by my mother through years of illness. If Maven really wanted the throne, she could have taken it years ago. It would have been easy before Harrald came of age. She could have easily revealed my mother’s illness, then pushed her to step down, and ruled as regent.” He shook his head. “Easier than that if she was cold-hearted enough. It was Maven who found the medicine that Mother needs to survive. She could have simply not helped her find the medication. No, I know Maven is dirty, but Riften is a dirty city. It chews up idealists and spits out beggars and whores. We need someone like Maven on our side.”

Daenerys nodded her head in acceptance. “I understand.” Saerlund hadn’t proved to be the ally she wanted, but he was obviously more insightful and pragmatic than Harrald. She didn’t think he was right to trust the Black-Briars. The Law-Givers were nourishing a viper in their bosom, but she clearly wasn’t going to convince Saerlund of that today. “Thank you, Saerlund, for your honesty and your insight. Think about my offer. With your wits and martial skills, you’ll at least be an officer in the Dragonguard, possibly even on my council of advisors.”

“Hmm.” Saerlund stroked his scruff for a moment. “I do appreciate the offer, Lady Targaryen. As I said, I’ll have to think about it. I will give you my answer tomorrow.”

Daenerys smiled. “Good. I look forward to your answer.”

.oOo.

When she returned to her suite, Daenerys waited up a little while for Vignar, but finally decided to get some rest. Sleep didn’t come easily. When she tried to rest, she kept feeling the assassin’s arrow pierce her neck. It felt like she had barely gotten to sleep when she was shaken awake to speak with Vignar.

The sun had set and the stars were out which meant it was quite late. Vignar reeked of mead but held his drink well. “Sorry, Lady Targaryen. The Snow-Shods were enthusiastic hosts, especially Vulwulf. We spent a long time drinking and talking about the Great War. Did you know we both fought in some of the same battles? I never met him during the war, but we were both there for the Battle of the Red Ring and lived through it. Very few men can say that.”

Daenerys knew only the Battle of the Red Ring was one of the final battles of the Great War and an Imperial victory, but she was too tired and too worried to indulge Vignar’s predilection to ramble. “Shh, quietly. I’m sure someone is listening. I’m glad your meeting with the Snow-Shods went well. Did you make any headway with them?”

“Oh yes, they were properly horrified about Honorhall Orphanage, and Vulwulf was ready to give Hemming a piece of his mind about harassing the Dragonborn. I won’t say they’re ready to turn on the Black-Briars, but I planted some seeds of doubt.”

Daenerys nodded. “That’s good. Did you get to talk to Nura Snow-Shod?”

“Oh, I talked to Nura and Aesgeir Snow-Shod as well. Not Unmid. He’s the jarl’s housecarl, but the other three. Nura is thrilled that you want to talk to her about Talos. Tomorrow is Sundas, so she suggested you stop by Snow-Shod manor in the morning. She’ll be holding services at the shrine of Talos all afternoon. Not that she won’t talk to you then, but it won’t be private. Vulwulf suggested that you come early and stay for lunch.

“Good work,” she whispered. She had far too much planned tomorrow to spend hours talking with the Snow-Shods, but they were important. “And did you make contact with the others?”

“Yes, I was able to talk to Olfina. Galdrus slipped her some documents.” He handed over a scroll tube.

Daenerys pulled out the package of documents and examined them by the light of a candle. One was a large and detailed map of Riften that had been heavily marked up. Three different buildings were marked as skooma dens. Two were on the docks, but one wasn’t far from the palace. Another was marked as ‘Fights’. There were many places marked as fences. Daenerys had asked for this information before, but while Karliah had many talents mapmaking wasn’t one of them. This map provided all the information she had asked for and more. The entrances to sewers were identified and numbered.

Karliah had provided a separate piece of parchment had a highly detailed map of the sewer system which included the infamous Ragged Flagon inn. Judging by the symbol of a dead rat on the map, Karliah had acquired it from the Ratcatchers’ Guild. There were also additional lines added, probably by Karliah because it looked like a child drew them, detailing additional secret passages and rooms, including one labeled Thieves’ Guild. Daenerys didn’t like the number of passages leading off from the Ragged Flagon and the Thieves’ Guild. No wonder they were never successfully raided. If she tried to cover all the passageways her men would be stretched too thin, and there was no way that Hemming Black-Briar would allow her to use the Riften Guard to help assault the Thieves’ Guild.

There was also a passable sketch, obviously not done by Karliah, of what looked like a tomb. The drawing included instructions on where to locate the tomb and where to press to open a secret passage. There were also two letters.

> Lady too-many-titles Targaryen,
> 
> I’ll admit it. You were right. I was making things far more complicated than they needed to be. Your direct approach of simply ambushing Mercer in his home worked. The hardest part was slipping past the people he had watching it. Then we just camped in his bedroom and waited. Mercer didn’t see us coming until it was too late. We got him and his guards alive. We did it clean, no evidence. I’ve got them buttoned up in a safe house. So far, his stooges have blabbed all they know, but nothing of any worth. Mercer refused to talk. Since he drowned Gallus and tried to drown me, I’m repaying the favor. I’ve got him bound with water constantly dripping on his head. I’m curious if he’ll talk, go insane, or die first. Oh, he was also rich. He had chests of gold in his home, jewels, furs, fancy clothes. We had a fun time sneaking all that out and four unconscious men, but we got it done. Oh, and Mercer had his own private secret passageway from his house to the Thieves’ Guild. I left his home looking like he packed up and cleared out in a hurry, just like you said.
> 
> Cleaning out Maven Black-Briar was much more of a challenge. She had servants and dogs. We fed the dogs meat laced with sleeping draught and then cut their throats. Sneaking around the servants was a pain in the ass, but worth it. She didn’t have chests of gold like Mercer, but we cleared out a bunch of fancy paintings and statues. We also took the Black-Briar family tapestry – just for fun. The tapestry doesn’t mention Mercer is the father of her kids. Attributes some dead Imperial, Plutus Cornicen. That’s probably true for Hemming, but I’m certain that Mercer is the father of Ingun and Sibbi. He was proud of planting his seed in a lady.
> 
> You probably won’t be surprised by what I found in the basement of Black-Briar Manor. The rumors about Maven having contacts with the Dark Brotherhood are true. I found full Black Sacrament: skeleton, human heart, human flesh, nightshade flower, and an iron dagger. I even found a copy of A Kiss, Sweet Mother that details exactly how to perform the Black Sacrament. I also found a note which I included. Double your guard and watch your back.
> 
> Gallus got in touch with your girl, Jenassa. The Thieves’ Guild isn’t happy with you being in town, and they’re also nervous Mercer isn’t around. Mercer is known for taking off for days at a time, but with Black-Briar Manor getting hit and no one bragging, a lot of them are pointing the finger at Mercer. Your girl, Jenassa, is supposed to be robbing Goldenglow, but she is planning to keep watch over your camp outside the gates. She’s pretty sure that a thief named Vex is going to try to rob the camp. She hasn’t heard about anyone trying to rob your people at the inn, but word is the Dragonguard is loaded. So, I expect someone to try it. I’m sending Galdrus to help Jenassa. I’ll help keep watch on the Bee and Barb tonight.
> 
> Jenassa reported that your man, Torvar, is making a name for himself in the fighting ring. If it is the same scam Mercer used to run, some of the fights are staged. They’ll let most of the fights happen however they go, but they’ll also build up some fighters to be favorites. Set them up with some easy matches. Rig a few hard ones so he wins easy. Everyone loves a winner, so they get everyone betting on the new up-and-comer and set up a big match. Then they have him throw the fight and cash in on the bets. They also do dog and creature fights, but man-on-man is the big money maker. I marked it on your map.
> 
> I’ve marked all the exits you need to cover to make sure no one escapes when you hit the Thieves’ Guild. I have also included a separate picture for the secret entrance in the graveyard so you know how to open it. I don’t think anyone but Mercer knows about the secret passage to his house, but I could be wrong. Maven has a guard stationed outside, but I can easily get around him to watch that exit. Send a message through your merchant when you’re ready to do the raid. I’ll check in with her from time to time.
> 
> I still don’t forgive you for putting a collar on my neck, but I will admit that this spy stuff pays pretty well and I like that I get to sit back while your pretty soldiers do the blood work. Oh, and vengeance on Mercer. Time to go kick him in the balls again.
> 
> Karliah

Daenerys flipped to the other shorter note and read it quickly.

> Astrid,
> 
> I thought your people were supposed to be reliable. I've performed the Black Sacrament. I've paid the proper penance, and I've waited patiently for results. If you can't handle a simple assassination, I'll find someone who can. I want this contract handled, and I want it handled immediately!
> 
> Maven Black-Briar

Daenerys read both messages twice. She wasn’t really surprised that Maven contracted the Dark Brotherhood to have her assassinated. This was just proof. Although with what Maven said about forging messages, Daenerys was skeptical that it would convince many people. Still, there were a few that were sitting on the fence that might be convinced.

Karliah was certainly proving her worth. It certainly helped that Karliah knew the Thieves’ Guild from the inside herself and had a grudge against Mercer, but this was the information that she needed to take down the Thieves’ Guild. That Karliah had robbed both Mercer and the Black-Briars blind just made it better. She really wasn’t happy about hearing that the Thieves’ Guild was going to try to rob her people, but there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it. She just had to trust that her people could catch the thieves. Even if they failed, it sounded like Karliah had stolen enough to make up their losses. “Thank you for bringing me all this Vignar. Now we know where to strike. Unfortunately, we can’t act yet. We need to get in touch with Mjoll the Lioness or someone like her.”

Vignar chuckled. “I don’t think there is anyone else like Mjoll in all of Riften. Lucky for you, I already found her. You have a breakfast meeting with her at the Bee and Barb. It was hard to make her wait. She wanted to rush in to meet you and to save you from the Black-Briars. She’ll be waiting on you.”

“Vignar! I could kiss you.” Mjoll the Lioness was the last piece she needed. Mjoll’s one-woman crusade against the Thieves’ Guild was well-known throughout Riften. Working with Mjoll would give Daenerys the excuse she needed to use Karliah’s information to strike a hopefully deadly blow against the Thieves’ Guild. Then she could deal with the Black-Briars.


	32. Chapter 30

# Chapter 30

Sundas, the 3rd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Despite what had been a long day, Daenerys did not sleep well. Her people were too vulnerable. She knew that the Thieves’ Guild was planning to rob the Dragonguard camp outside of town and probably her people staying at the Bee and Barb. She had also left Aana alone at Honorhall Orphanage. That had made sense politically, but that was before the assassination attempt. Maven was playing for keeps. If Maven wanted a hostage, she could take Aana easily. While Daenerys did not care for Aana as deeply as she had Missandei, she wasn’t just a servant. Aana had shown great loyalty both to her and the Dragonguard. However, trying to move Aana to safely would just draw attention to her. Sunrise came too early, but Daenerys was eager to get started. Everyone was surprised when she removed her amulet of Talos to don her armor.

“M’lady?” asked Raina in surprise. “You’re not going to wear your amulet of Talos any longer?”

Daenerys shook her head. “Oh no, I am going to wear it. I just decided that I am no longer going to hide it under my armor and clothing. I’m going to wear it openly.”

“Oh,” replied Raina as she set it aside. “I’ll help you with it in a moment then.”

As Raina helped her don her breastplate, Sofija, Lydia, and Faralda exchanged glances. They still looked puzzled when Raina secured her amulet back around her neck. Daenerys decided to answer the question they didn’t ask. “I’m done hiding my faith in Talos. When I call upon him to heal, the magic flows better and I feel his presence.”

Faralda arched an eyebrow. “Won’t that be taken as a political statement? That you support the Stormcloaks? I thought you were trying to keep the Dragonguard neutral.”

Daenerys paused for a moment. It was likely that a servant was listening, but she decided that she didn’t care. “I am, but I believe in Talos and I won’t hide that any longer. It’s not like the story of Mir-Mul-Nir hasn’t spread all over Skyrim by now. By now everyone in Skyrim probably knows that I ended that fight naked except for an amulet of Talos around my neck. That was a sign, and I should have heeded it.” Why hadn’t she seen that it was a sign before? “I was just never religious before. It took me a long time to accept it, but I have come to believe in Talos. I can’t deny that any longer.”

“So, this has nothing to do with seeing Nura Snow-Shod today? Or swaying the Snow-Shods?”

“No,” replied Daenerys honestly. “After the assassin I tried to reach for my amulet when I healed myself. I knew that I was wearing it, but…” She shrugged. “I wanted to hold it. Talos means too much to me to hide it any longer. Let others think of it what they will.” Honestly, it felt good to say all this, to make her declaration of faith.

“Should I do the same?” asked Sofija.

“That’s for you to decide, Sofija. I can’t tell you what gods to follow. That is your personal choice. Decide for yourself.”

“I believe in the Nine,” replied Sofija immediately. “However, I have no strong belief in any of them. I have put my faith in you.”

“And I value your loyalty and service, Sofija Ēlī Vokēdrie. You are my first faithful.” She glanced over to her Lydia and Faralda. “And I value your service as well, Lydia. As well as your mentorship and friendship, Faralda. I know you all believe in me, and I hope to prove worthy. I am many things, but I am not a god. Follow me, advise me, help me fight my battles, but don’t worship me.”

Barbas gave a little snort. <You may not be a god, but you’re not a mortal either, Dovahkiin. You’ll still be around after they’re all dead and gone. The ancient Nords weren’t wrong to worship the dragons.>

Daenerys glanced at Barbas. “You hush. The rest of you put this aside. We have too much to do today.”

There were some mutters, but everyone dropped the subject and finished getting ready. This time she took everyone except Raina with her. It worried her to leave her lame handmaiden alone, just as she’d left Aana alone, but she needed everyone who could fight today. Even Aringoth was wearing leather armor and carried a sword and bow, but that was mostly for his protection. She wanted him as a witness not for his fighting skills.

Hemming was apparently not an early riser. He wasn’t waiting for her as she left Mistveil Manor although the officer in charge at the front door asked her to wait for Hemming. Daenerys simply pushed past saying that if Hemming wanted her, then he could follow the crowds. The officer obviously wasn’t sure what he should do, but he sent five men to ‘escort’ her around Riften.

Once they were out of sight of the Mistveil Keep, Daenerys immediately took charge of the five guards that were following behind her. “Well, are you here to follow me around town or escort me? I’m meeting my quartermaster at the Bee and Barb for breakfast. Form a wedge so I can get through the crowds!”

They immediately did as commanded forming a wedge in front of her. “Yes ma’am.” “Yes, Lady Targaryen.” “Do we say Lady or Ysmir?”

Daenerys was amused. She seriously doubted any of her escort had been deliberately planted to spy upon her. She chalked this confusion up to Hemming Black-Briar having been just put in charge of the Riften Guard. Either he had meddled with the chain of command, or he just hadn’t issued orders, or maybe he simply slept in. Regardless, she had just gained five soldiers to order about until an officer found out and took charge.

Some people gawked at her as she walked through the market, but most of them were merchants too busy setting out their goods for the day to do more than spare her a glance. It didn’t take long before they arrived at the Bee and Barb. The entrance was partially blocked by a green-scaled Argonian up on a ladder scrubbing what looked like dung off the sign showing a bee perched on a fishhook. The few Argonians she’d seen before were bald, but this one had a few green feathers on his head.

The Argonian looked down at her. “Oh, it’s you. Let me assure you that there are no assassins lurking at the Bee and Barb. I tend the bar and keep the place clean. Keerava runs the place. Yes, we’re Argonians, but we don’t know anything about the idiot who attacked you. Keerava runs a clean establishment.”

Daenerys put the dung on the sign together with the Argonian’s hostile attitude and realized that Nords being Nords they had blamed all Argonians for the assassin that attacked her. “I’m sorry if you or Keerava have been troubled. Some of my Dragonguard are staying here, and I planned to eat breakfast here. I wouldn’t do that if I blamed every Argonian. Maybe if people see us eating in your common room it might settle some of those rumors.”

The Argonian gave a sigh that sounded more like a hiss. “It would probably help. When word gets around that the Dragonborn ate here… I apologize for my foolish tongue. I would jump down and show you to a table, but I’ve got dung on my hands. Please, go on in. Keerava will take care of you.”

Daenerys went on inside as directed. The Bee and Barb was much larger and better lit than the Sleeping Giant Inn back in Riverwood. Instead of long bench tables, many round tables stood scattered around the room. Two human tavern wenches were working the room passing out breakfasts and taking orders. Daenerys spotted Jon Battle-Born, Olfina Grey-Mane and Camilla Valerius sitting at a table with a huge woman and a teenaged lad. She relaxed a little at the smiles on their faces. Obviously, either no one had tried to steal from them in the night, or the thief had been easily handled. She headed over to their table to join them.

Before she could get there an Argonian with tan scales wearing a dress hurried up to her. “Ah, Lady Targaryen, your people only just informed me that you would be coming, but not with such a large party. Allow me to push some tables together for all of you.”

Daenerys was flummoxed. This must be Keerava, the innkeeper that the Argonian outside had just mentioned, but Daenerys was trying hard not to stare at the low neckline on her dress. Keerava had breasts! Argonians were lizard-people. They had scales, and a tail, and they laid eggs. Daenerys pushed those thoughts aside. Just another one of those things that everyone in Skyrim knew and didn’t bother to tell her. Female Argonians had breasts and large ones judging by Keerava. She focused on meeting the innkeepers gaze and gave her a polite nod. “Thank you. We’ll wait while you push the tables together. Oh, and the Riften Guards aren’t in my party, but if you’ll give them a table off to the side, I’ll pay for their breakfast as well.”

“Of course, Dragonborn.” She gestured to the tavern wenches and helped the two of them push tables around.

While the tables were being pushed together, Daenerys studied the guests at the table with her Dragonguard. The big woman was obviously Mjoll the Lioness. Nord women were large, but Mjoll was larger than even Brienne of Tarth. She wore steel plate armor and the hilt of a two-handed sword was visible sticking out upon her back. Her hair was the color of honey. She wore it in a simple style, brushed back and left to fall around her shoulders. The left side of her face was painted with a broad vertical stripe of woad blue. Despite being a simple stripe, the color contrast gave her a fierce and disturbing look.

Mjoll’s companion was much less impressive. He was a slight young man. If he was out of his teen years, he was barely into his twenties. He wore a nice tunic and breeches, nothing fancy, just something a shopkeeper could afford. He was a bit shorter and darker of skin and his features had an Imperial cast to them. Although Daenerys wasn’t certain whether he was Imperial or not. While Imperials, Bretons, and Nords were considered different races of men, Daenerys found that the differences were mostly cultural. It wasn’t always easy to tell them apart at a glance. Although there were exceptions.

Once the tables were in place, everyone stood and bowed as she approached and took a seat at the table. “Please, everyone sit. Vignar, would you please make introductions while we order.”

Daenerys listened as Vignar went around the table. Mjoll the Lionesswas no surprise. The woman looked her in the eye and nodded seriously. Her companion was introduced as Aerin, a warrior who had saved Mjoll’s life when he found her outside a Dwemer ruin. It was immediately obvious to Daenerys that Aerin was desperately in love with Mjoll, but she was either clueless or indifferent to his affections.

Once introductions were done, Daenerys was curious about the two who were missing. “Camilla, I thought you were supposed to have two soldiers from the Dragonguard with you as well.”

“We do,” agreed Camilla. “Unfortunately, we had a thief try to break-in last night. Whoever it was picked the lock, but knocked over the stack of cups we had behind the door. They ran and didn’t come back, but I didn’t feel like leaving a chest full of gold unguarded.”

“A wise precaution,” agreed Daenerys. “Mjoll, I’m not sure how much Jon, Olfina, and Camilla have filled you in. Would you let me know what you’ve been told and if you would be willing to help?”

“I’m certainly willing to help. I might even join your Dragonguard, but I have made a vow to cleanse Riften of the corruption that plagues it. They’ve told me that you want to do the same and you need my help. I’m all for that. However, I don’t understand why all these plans are necessary. I was there in the crowd last night when you faced down Hemming Black-Briar. Why didn’t you just kill him there and then and been done with it? You’re the Dragonborn. If you lift up your banner the whole city will rise up to follow you.”

Daenerys wanted to slap Mjoll for saying that loudly enough to draw attention. “That’s both treason and a bad idea. I support Jarl Law-Giver,” she said loud and clear so that everyone can hear, then she lowered her voice. “And I’ll explain why, but we’re in a tavern. So, let’s not start rumors.”

Mjoll nodded. “That was foolish of me.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Perhaps, but it was also honest. I have considered trying to raise a mob, but as I said, it’s a bad idea. An angry mob is like a sword without a hilt. It cuts the hand that holds it. A lot of innocent people would die. The Riften Guard may be corrupt, but that doesn’t mean that every one of them is corrupt. How many of them are honorable Nords who would fight and die in the service or their jarl? How many people will die trying to storm Mistveil Keep? How guilty is Jarl Law-Giver? If I call up a mob, I’ll have to depose her too. Do you think she is corrupt as well?”

Mjoll frowned. “I don’t know, but she is part of the problem.”

“Fair enough. Suppose that I depose Jarl Law-Giver as well. Who rules Riften? I have my own destiny. I have to stop the dragons and Al-Du-In. I’m not going to be able to stay here and rule.”

“Well, there are other clans. And you have that elf, Aringoth… No, that wouldn’t do. Maybe the Snow-Shods?”

“Do you think that would work?” asked Daenerys. “Or would the clans fight among themselves?”

“They’d fight, but someone would eventually emerge victorious.” She sighed. “Very well, I see your point. We try to break the Thieves’ Guild and the Black-Briars without a mob.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Daenerys didn’t even mention the political reason. If she seized power of one city by starting a rebellion, every jarl would trust her less. Most would accept it because Riften was a stinking skeeverhole, but they would still be wary of her. She didn’t need that. “Good, because…” Daenerys leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper… “I plan to break the back of the Thieves’ Guild today, and I need your help. Will you help me?”

“Today?” Mjoll laughed loudly. Then she looked around and realized no one else was laughing. She lowered her voice. “That wasn’t a joke. You’re serious.”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

Mjoll stared at her for a moment and smiled broadly. “Of course, I’ll help you. I don’t think you’ll do it, but even a chance to strike a serious blow against them is worth it.”

Mjoll’s friend, Aerin, laid a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should at least ask what the plan is first?”

Daenerys shook her head. “Not here, even while whispering it isn’t safe enough. I’ll fill you in as we go. I promise you won’t have to do anything dishonorable.”

Mjoll patted Aerin on the shoulder, the kind of gesture a big sister might make to console a younger sibling. “It will be fine. She’s the Dragonborn. I trust her honor. I’ll help just so I can say that I was there.” She looked back to Daenerys. “But you will fill us in?”

“Yes, and my plan starts with breakfast.” She gestured to the two tavern wenches approaching with trays burdened down with food. “The rest will have to wait for a little while longer.”

.oOo.

Snow-Shod manor was two stories tall and set off from the city by a stone wall and a small garden. The exterior of the manor was unremarkable for such a high ranked family. The bottom story was mortar and stone, but the upper story was wood and stucco. The garden held carefully tended patches of flowers in full bloom.

A boy of about twelve was poking at the dirt with a stick. He came to attention with a squeak. “Lady Targaryen, ma’am! Please, please come in. This way.” He pulled the front door open for her.

Daenerys ordered the five Riften guards she had acquired to wait in the courtyard and went inside to find an entry room. The walls were lined with benches and winter coats. Two warriors wearing polished steel armor politely asked for her to leave her dog there before they escorted her through the Snow-Shod Manor. Meanwhile, the boy darted ahead running through the halls.

She was escorted to a large dining hall. It wasn’t anything compared to the hall of a jarl, but the single large table would seat twenty easily and was loaded with a vast amount of food: cut fruits, breads, cheeses, and a full roast pig. Clearly, the Snow-Shods kept the Nord tradition of feasting well. There were a half-dozen people sitting at the table which to Daenerys meant that the Snow-Shods had been waiting for her party to arrive. Daenerys wasn’t sure if this enthusiastic reception boded good or ill. They might be under the same misconception as Saerlund that she had declared for the Stormcloaks. On the other hand, they might just be thrilled to host the Dragonborn.

Vignar introduced Camilla Valerius, Sofija, Lydia, Aringoth, Val, Mjoll the Lioness, and Aerin, and ended with her. Then he introduced her to the Snow-Shods. She had already met Asgeir Snow-Shod at the Black-Briar Meadery. While that had only been the day before, so much had happened that it felt like she hadn’t seen him in a week. Vulwulf Snow-Shod was the clan patriarch. He was gray of hair, but still looked healthy, but had started to grow a bit of a belly. Clearly his warrior days were past. Nura Snow-Shod had red hair shot with streaks of silver. She looked to be quite a few years younger than her husband, or at least better preserved. Vignar also introduced several others who oversaw the Snow-Shod farm, but Daenerys focused on those three.

Vulwulf was the first to start speaking once the introductions were done. “I welcome you all to my home and my table. Please, everyone. Sit down. Eat. Everything here was raised on my farms and is the best food you’ll find in Riften!”

Daenerys sat. She hoped to sway the Snow-Shods to her side or at least move them to being not so much on Maven’s side, but she didn’t have the time or the appetite for a second breakfast. Still, she had to at least nibble at something to avoid being rude, so she sampled some of the sliced fruits.

“Now, Lady Targaryen, I see you are wearing your famous amulet above your armor. Is that a statement of intent? Vignar told me how you were trying to keep the Dragonguard neutral and seek a peaceful solution, but dare we hope that is a declaration that you have chosen to support the Stormcloak cause?”

“I haven’t changed my position. I support the right of all Nords to worship the Nine including Talos. I believe that all the citizens of the Empire should have that same right. However, I must focus on ending the dragons that are plaguing Skyrim. That is what the gods have asked of me, and that is what I will do. That is why the Dragonguard is, and will remain, neutral.”

“Yes, yes, I understand duty and obedience to the gods. My beautiful wife is a priestess of Talos! And she didn’t change to another god even when the Empire banned Talos worship! But I don’t see how you’ll ever get the Empire to just let you do it. Vignar shared your plan, but you have what? Whiterun and yourself supporting a non-violent approach? And Balgruuf is just a fence-sitter. Always has been. Always will be.”

Daenerys was a bit amused by hearing Balgruuf described as a fence-sitter. While she disagreed with him about some things, he seemed a competent jarl who thought things through and did what was best for his people. “I believe the empire is willing to accept a compromise. I’ve had polite conversations with two Imperial legates. Both of them listened politely and thought my suggestion had merit. They promised to pass my compromise along. To be honest, so far the Empire has given the Dragonguard more direct aid than the Stormcloaks.”

“What aid?” asked Vulwulf.

“Troops. The empire has assigned twelve men including two officers to the Dragonguard directly under my command. They also helped me resupply the Dragonguard after the dragon Lok-Nos-Dov destroyed my supply chain. The Stormcloaks on the other hand, have done little for me. Jarl Kraldar gave me three men. Ulfric Stormcloak gave me nothing.”

“Well… That won’t do! I’ll speak to Gonnar Oath-Giver! That’s an outrage. The Empire supporting the Dragonguard with four times as many men as the Stormcloaks. I can see why you think they’re listening to you, but I have to warn you. When an Imperial says he’ll ‘pass an idea along’ what he really means is he’s going to ignore it. That’s what Imperials do to kill something they don’t have the balls to do. They pass it along and pass it around and around until it is far too late to do anything.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Perhaps. I have little direct experience with the Empire.” Trying to chop off her head had not made the best first impression, but she thought the way they had refrained from escalating the Skyrim rebellion was smart, not avoidance.

“Well, if you continue wearing that amulet, you’ll get direct experience with them soon enough. So, if it was not a declaration, why are you wearing an amulet of Talos?”

“That is something that I would prefer to speak about with your wife, privately.” She looked to Nura Snow-Shod. “The sooner the better. I appreciate the hospitality, but I really have much to do today.”

“You won’t be staying for lunch?” Vulwulf was predictably offended.

Nura laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Wulfie, I’m going to pull rank on you. This is a matter of faith. Let me talk to the Dragonborn, privately. You can entertain for a while.”

Vulwulf let out a put upon sigh. “Really Nura, in my own house? At my own table?” Despite his words, there was a good bit of humor to his words. It was clear he adored his wife. “Fine, fine, who am I to argue with Talos? Go have your talk.”

Nura rose and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Thank you, dear.” She beckoned to Daenerys to follow.

Daenerys wasted no time in following. That had been a very interesting dynamic between husband and wife. She had wanted to ask Nura questions about faith and Talos, but speaking to her might also be the best way to sway the Snow-Shods. Nura led her down a hallway into a small room draped with tapestries which held a small shrine to Talos.

Nura pulled back a tapestry and tied it off to expose a window and let more light into the room. “I would offer you a chair, but I usually just kneel on the floor. Would it be alright to just stand here and talk about what is troubling you?”

“That’s fine,” agreed Daenerys. “How do you know something is troubling me?”

“Dear, you look like you have the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. Besides, why else does anyone seek out a priestess? Very few ever seek us out when things are going their way, but when they have trouble, then they ask the gods to solve their problems.”

Daenerys laughed. “I don’t think that would work in my case. The gods sent me to stop the dragons and save the world. That’s why I’m here. They might be helping, but it’s my job.”

“Oh, you poor dear. Is this about the Dragonborn prophecy? You think you have to save the world all by yourself? When the gods choose a champion, they aid them. Vignar told us a lot about you last night. You killed a dragon with a half-dozen men. You got the Grey-Manes and the Battle-Borns to agree upon something. You built up a small army out of nothing, and that’s before you impressed the Greybeards enough that they named you Ysmir. Yesterday, an assassin that should have killed you didn’t. The gods may have laid a heavy burden upon you, but you have been blessed. The gods move in subtle ways most of the time, but it’s a lot more obvious around you.”

Daenerys frowned. “Are you saying the gods just gave me all that? Because I struggled for it. The Dragonguard paid in blood to defeat Lok-Nos-Dov. I have paid… nevermind what. Nothing I’ve done was handed to me.”

Nura raised up her hands. “No, no, you got me wrong. The gods won’t give you anything, but they help. As I said, they’re usually subtle. Prophecies have weight to them as does being named the Dragonborn and Ysmir. Those things give your words weight. Talos doesn’t speak to me in words, but I knew your coming was important for the Snow-Shod Clan, for Riften, even for the world. People want to help you. They want to believe in you. That’s the power of faith, and sometimes, rarely, but when you need it the most, their hand is obvious.”

It was hard to deny that was true. People did flock to her because she was the Dragonborn. She would also have died to the draugr lord at Ironbind Barrow. How much of this was true? She’d heard priests talk this way before. When good things happened, praise the gods. When bad things happen, beg the gods for mercy. However, the gods were a lot more real here in Tamriel. “That’s not the kind of help I wanted to ask you about.”

“Then what kind of help do you seek?”

“Magic. I trained in Restoration magic at the College of Winterhold. They taught me to use the desire to ease another’s pain as the Seeming, but Colette Marence, the Mistress of Restoration, also said that faith could be more effective for Restoration. Faith didn’t work for me then, but…” She reached up and touched her amulet. “It does now. I can feel Talos working through me when I call upon him to heal. I’m not sure what it means. We had many gods in my homeland, but I didn’t believe in any of them. I believe in Talos and I don’t even know who he is. I’ve heard of Tiber Septim the man, but Talos the god? He’s so central to everything Nords believe, but what does he stand for? Nords don’t even talk about it that much. It’s like water to fish. They don’t notice it because they swim in it. I’ve found a seed inside myself. How do I grow that seed?”

Nura touched her own amulet of Talos. “Are you asking to become an acolyte of Talos?”

“No,” replied Daenerys with a shake of her head. “I don’t have time for an apprenticeship. Al-Du-In won’t wait that long. I’m called to be a champion, not a priestess. I have far too much to do, but this is important as well.”

“It is. Very well, I’ll do what I can. Kneel and pray with me.” Nura got down on the floor and knelt. Once Daenerys joined her, Nura started to pray out loud. “Talos, your champion comes in search of guidance. She wants to serve your will, but doesn’t know how…”

Daenerys listened as Nura prayed. She tried to pray along and mean it, but she wasn’t good at faith. Everything Nura was saying sounded like the same words priests always said. Put your trust in the gods. Let them guide you. Daenerys didn’t know what she had expected. She had just hoped for something more than platitudes.

“… listen Talos and guide us as we pray together in silence.” Nura reached out and touched her shoulder. “Just pray like you’re talking to him. Tell him your fears, your doubts. I’ll be here beside you.”

“I understand,” lied Daeenrys. That had been rather useless really. Just talk to Talos? And tell him what? That her plan for defeating Al-Du-In was about as good as the contents of her chamber pot? Build an army. Somehow find the lost horn of Jurgen Windcaller and train up some Tongues. Somehow locate an Elder Scroll and bring it back to the top of the Throat of the World. Somehow use it to learn the Dragonrend Shout. And kill more dragons on the way, because each dragon she Inhaled made her stronger. That wasn’t a real plan. She was just making it up as she went along. Even her plan for Riften was incomplete. She could probably take down most of the Thieves’ Guild, but some would escape and could start again. As for taking down the Black-Briars, she had struck some blows, but nothing to change things. How was this helping her kill dragons?

“Talos,” prayed Nura aloud. “I hear what you are saying to my heart, and I will obey.” She rose to her feet. “Rise, Lady Dragonborn. I was being an old fool. You may not have time to become an acolyte, but you need training. You need to hear the stories of the life of Tiber Septim of who he was. Only then will you understand why he is Talos, god of the Empire and all mankind. Since that will take more than one day, it is obvious what I must do. I’m joining the Dragonguard. I’ll go where you go and teach you as I can.”

Daenerys nodded her acceptance immediately. “I’ll be glad to have you. Your presence will give heart to the Dragonguard.” And another healer would be very welcome. There is no way she could turn that down. Learning the stories of Tiber Septim also made a lot more sense to her than trying to talk to Talos in her head. Tiber Septim the man had been a military and political genius. She could learn a lot merely by studying his stories. It would also move the Snow-Shod Clan into alliance with the Dragonguard, or at least she hoped it would. “Will this be a problem with your husband and the Snow-Shod Clan?”

She shook her head. “Leave my husband to me. I know how to manage him.”

“As you wish.” This could work out very well for the Dragonguard. If Nura could deliver the military and political support of the Snow-Shod Clan, then her plan to take down the Thieves’ Guild today just became a lot closer to reality. “We should return to the dining hall then. I don’t want to rush you, but today will be a very busy day for the Dragonguard.”


	33. Chapter 33

# Chapter 31

Sundas, the 3rd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Nura led Daenerys back to the dining hall with a determined stride. As soon as she entered, she strode right up to Vulwulf. “Husband, I have something important to tell you.”

Vulwulf frowned. “Nura, what’s wrong?”

“Not wrong. Important. The Lady Targaryen is a foreigner, yet the gods have chosen her as the Dragonborn. Talos himself has chosen her. Perhaps that is what the Greybeards saw in her when they proclaimed her Ysmir. She came to me for guidance. We prayed together. I felt Talos speaking to my heart as clearly as if he was talking to me. I know what Talos wants of me. I am to go with her and advise her. I am joining the Dragonguard.”

Vulwulf surged to his feet. “Nura! No! We fought our war. You’re not young any longer. The Dragonguard fights dragons. Talos has others. You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes,” declared Nura. “I do. Talos led her to me. He chose me to advise her. Husband, I love you, but I am a priestess. When Talos calls, I obey. You let our daughter go to war. You want our son to join the Stormcloaks. It is my turn. Talos has called me. Do not disgrace the honor of that calling.”

“Nura…” Vulwulf visibly deflated. “I know in my head that it is an honor. My heart doesn’t want to lose you, but I’m a Nord. The heart doesn’t get what it wants when duty calls. I fear that I will not see you again, but go with my blessing. I wish I was young enough to go with you, but I’m too old to fight.”

Daenerys stepped forward. “Vulwulf, why don’t you go with her? Who said you have to fight? I’m recruiting men. Some of them are blooded warriors, but most of them are farmers and such. They may have chased away wolves or some monster, but they have no real clue how to fight. I need experienced leaders who can forge them into warriors more than I need another sword.”

Vulfwulf hesitated. “I want to say yes. That is a generous offer, but I couldn’t keep up with a march, and someone has to oversee our interests in the Black-Briar Meadery and our estates.”

Nura scoffed. “Really, Wulfie? With all the gold you’ve earned over the years, I think we can afford a horse or two for you to ride. As for overseeing the interests of Clan Snow-Shod, we have a son. You have been training Asgeir since he was a child. If he’s not ready by now, he’ll never be ready. He doesn’t want to go to war anyway. He has a head for the business side of running a clan. Step down, let him take over, and we…” She smiled at him. “Whatever happens, we’ll have more stories to tell in Sovngarde.”

“You and me, Nura, together again. Like we were in the Great War. I’ll do it. By Ysmir! That is the way Nords should go out. Raging, burning, one last great battle, not smoldering at home like the embers of last night’s fire.”

Nura ran up and embraced her husband. In front of everyone the two kissed like young lovers, totally lost in each other. The crowd being full of Nords naturally cheered them with yells, catcalls, and foot stomps. Neither Nura nor Vulwulf even noticed.

.oOo.

Maybe Nura was right about the gods helping her in subtle ways. Just because Nura and Vulwulf joined the Dragonguard, didn’t mean they agreed with her politically. However, it did mean they listened instead of yelling as she explained what joining the Dragonguard meant. While there was some grumbling from Vulwulf about the Dragonguard being neutral in the Stormcloak rebellion, he accepted her logic that the fight against the dragons had to take precedence. He even admitted that her suggestion for resolving the rebellion by treaty instead of war wasn’t without merit. However, he did not think the Empire would ever accept it.

The trickier part came when she explained that she was moving not just against the Thieves’ Guild, but against Clan Black-Briar as well. The Black-Briars and the Snow-Shods had been allied for decades to their mutual benefit. They knew Maven Black-Briar was a bit corrupt, but that was just politics. They had trouble believing that she was directly aligned with the Thieves’ Guild. They were even more reluctant to believe that Maven tried to have her assassinated until Daenerys showed them Maven’s letter where she hired an assassin from Astrid. They were stunned by the letter, but to their credit, they never even suggested the letter was forged. After their shock wore off, they grew angry. While they understood that Maven was a bit dirty, they drew the line at assassination. Praying to Sithis was unforgivable. After a lot of cursing, they settled down to ask Daenerys about her plan. Unfortunately, that was when Jon and Olfina arrived with Marcus Verres and the rest of the Dragonguard. Even with her soldiers waiting in the courtyard and only her officers and the Snow-Shods crowded in the discussion was still getting out of hand.

Daenerys pounded her fist on the table. “Quiet everyone! Don’t make me Shout you all down!”

The room settled down and every eye turned to her. “Now. I know you all have questions. I don’t have time to answer them all. The Dragonguard was allowed entry because I implied that I was releasing them on leave in Riften. That permission will likely be rescinded once it becomes obvious that I’m keeping them together. The Black-Briars will not be happy that I have a significant military force under my direct command within the walls of Riften. So, we have to strike this morning. Detailed explanations will have to wait. I’m going to hit the high points and hit them fast.”

She glanced around the room and now everyone was listening. “Good. Now, first thing. Jenassa, Marcus, Galdrus – did a thief try to rob our treasury last night?”

“Yes,” agreed Marcus. “She didn’t get inside and Jenassa and Galdrus killed her trying to escape. They identified her as Sapphire, she’s a known member of the Thieves’ Guild. No one else was hurt.”

Daenerys nodded. Sapphire was on the list of thieves that Karliah thought might make a good Nightingales, but she wasn’t high on the list. Daenerys was more relieved that no harm was done. “Fine. Good work, but that confirms we dare not leave the Dragonguard treasury unguarded. Vulwulf, I would like to leave my treasury here at Snow-Shod manor along with a few non-combatants like my quartermaster, Camilla. I think it highly unlikely that anyone would attack or try to steal from Clan Snow-Shod today. That would free up more men for the actions.”

“We just joined your banner and you’re trusting us with all your gold and your hostages?” Vulwulf laughed. “Aye, we’ll do it. I’ll look after it myself. I’m too old to race around town. We’ll keep your treasures safe.”

“Thank you, Vulwulf. I hope you have a few more men to guide us around. I have a map, we’re going to split up and strike three different skooma dens. Let me emphasize my goal here. It is to take down those filth that sell the drugs. I want the skooma addicts to be left alive. They’re more victims than criminals, and I also want word of the attacks to get out. The addicts will suffer enough when we cut off their drug supply. That doesn’t mean you can’t use force if they attack you. Also, every skooma den has an exit to the sewers. If anyone flees to the sewers, let them.”

Mjoll the Lioness stood up. “But you said the Thieves’ Guild is based in the sewers. If the addicts take refuge there, won’t you have made it harder to root them out?”

“Yes, but I am counting on word of the attacks getting out. Rumor flies faster than an arrow. Soon everyone will hear that the Dragonguard is cracking down on crime, but we’re not chasing men into the sewers. I want every thief in the city to scamper like rats to the sewers. There will be more to fight, but we can catch them all at once. This is just like war. Sometimes you let the enemy retreat so you can ambush them all at once.”

There were several nods and cheers at that. Daenerys let them have their moment before she resumed. “Vulwulf, I know you have retainers here at Snow-Shod Manor. How many men-at-arms can lend to support the Dragonguard today and still defend your manor?”

Vulwulf mulled it over a bit. “Five men-at-arms and Asgeir.” He looked over to his son. “Provided you’re willing. You wouldn’t fight for the Stormcloaks, but will you fight for Riften?”

Asgeir surged to his feet. “Father, I have explained the many reasons that I won’t fight for the Stormcloaks. Just because I don’t think the sun shines out of Ulfric’s ass doesn’t mean that I lack courage. I never completely trusted Maven. It was simply better to have the daedra on our side than against us, but she has gone too far. I will fight for Riften! Down with the Thieves’ Guild and down with the Black-Briars!”

That started another round of cheering. “Down with the Thieves’ Guild! Down with the Black-Briars! Down with the Thieves’ Guild! Down with the Black-Briars! Down with the Thieves’ Guild! Down with the Black-Briars!”

Daenerys raised her hands and the chanting died down. “Good. Neither of them will know what hit them. With your five men and Asgeir, that gives us a bit more than three dozen men. Now, we’ll need to split our forces. We’re going to split into three teams of twelve to strike the skooma dens. Marcus, you’ll lead one strike team. Sofija, you’re in charge of the second strike team.” Putting Sofija in charge was a risk, but Sofija was her second. It was past time to give her a command of her own. “As for the third strike team…” Vulwulf had bowed out due to age. “Asgeir, are you up to leading the third strike team?”

“You can count on me, Dragonborn,” proclaimed Asgeir.

“Good, because I am.” He was even more of a risk than Sofija, but the Snow-Shods were contributing too much. Hopefully, Asgeir was up to the task. Vulwulf fought in the Great War and trained his son. Asgeir was already familiar with ordering men around at the Black-Briar Meadery. It was a risk, but one she had to take. The Snow-Shods had trusted her enough to flip their alliance. Now she had to show she trusted them.

Marcus frowned. “That will give us a few men left over, and you’re not leading one of the teams. What will you be doing?”

Daenerys smiled. “Expanding the Dragonguard.”

.oOo.

They had just agreed upon the teams and divided everyone into targets when the messenger boy came running in to announce that more Riften Guards had arrived and wanted to talk to her.

Daenerys sighed. “They were bound to find us sooner or later. Thank you, lad, for letting us know. How many were there and was Hemming Black-Briar leading them?”

“Three m’lady,” replied the boy bouncing up and down as he talked. “No ossifers, officurs…” He paused and took a breath. “Officers,” he said with slow determination. “No officers with them ma’am. I mean, m’lady.”

Even though three men weren’t a military threat, they could still put her plans in danger. “I’ll go talk to them. They’re going to report to Hemming, but I can try to mislead them.” She looked over to Vulwulf. “Do you have a back door?”

“Of course, we have a servant’s door,” replied Vulwulf. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s go ahead and get people moving. Marcus, gather your men and file them on through the manor and out the back while I talk with the Riften Guards. Sofija, you’re next, then Asgeir. I’ll try to draw the talk out long enough for all of you to leave. Lydia and Aringoth, you’re both with me.” Even counting Barbas that made her team the smallest with only four members, so she hoped she wasn’t about to lose the Riften guard escort that she had borrowed.

Marcus saluted her and went to get his troops. She followed behind him and found the front garden of Snow-Shod Manor to be chaotic. Not surprising since so many of the Dragonguard were camped there along with the Riften Guard. Marcus began calling out his men as she went to find the Riften Guard. It wasn’t hard to find them. The three newcomers were standing with the five that she had commandeered as her escort.

“Yes, I believe you were looking for me?” She gave the three Riften Guards a glacial stare.

“Yes, Lady Targaryen. Hemming Black-Briar, I mean the Captain, he was looking for you. He said you weren’t supposed to leave without him.”

“Did he now?” Daenerys glared at the man. “Well, you can trot right back to Hemming and tell him that neither I nor the Dragonguard answer to him. We are not criminals. I appreciate the escort for my safety, but I have business to attend to in the city. Do I have to make it clear as I did to him yesterday?”

The guard she was addressing turned pale. “You mean, by Shouting? No. No, Lady Targaryen. I’ll just tell him that you respectfully decline.”

“If you wish to lie to him, that’s your business. Not mine.”

“Lie to him, Lady Targaryen? I don’t understand.”

“You said ‘respectfully decline’. I have little to no respect for Hemming Black-Briar. You can tell him that as well.”

“Begging your pardon, but I’ll just tell him you decline, then. Lady Targaryen. May I ask why all the Dragonguard are congregated here?”

“I believe you just did ask. To answer the question, the Snow-Shods invited us. My men are now being divided up and will be heading into the city shortly. You’re in the guard. You should know how this works. Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait.”

The guard laughed. “Yes, your ladyship. We know all about that.”

Daenerys just stared at him.

After a few moments the man lost his smile. “Yes, well. We will just be going then. Good day, Lady Targaryen.” He turned and left at a fast walk with the other two guards following along with him.

She looked at the other five Riften guards. “Looks like you five are staying with me. Will that be a problem?”

They looked at each other and then to their same spokesperson as before. “As best as I can tell our orders are still to escort you wherever you want to go inside Riften. Until someone says otherwise.”

“Then wait here. We’re dismissing the Dragonguard shortly. I’m sure you also know about hurry up and wait.”

The guard smiled at that. “Oh, yes ma’am. We know all about that… and all about looking the other way, Lady Targaryen. None of us want to be caught in the middle between you and the Cap’n. So, you just give the orders, and we’ll follow them. That’s all I want to know. That’s all any of us needs t’ know.” He glanced at the other guards. “Am I right?”

“Gods yes!” agreed one. While another nodded his head and the other two were expressionless.

“Relax. I’m not mad at any of you five.” She gave them a smile. She had been regarding the Riften Guard as a potential enemy and the people of Riften her allies. Clearly, the guards weren’t all in the Black-Briar’s pockets. Or even if they were, that didn’t mean they were willing to go up against the Dragonborn. “Rest a few minutes while we sort things out, then we’ll be heading out.”

When she turned around, she noticed that Sofija had already called out her men. That left only Asgeir. Her plan was in motion. Now, she had to trust her people and see it through.

.oOo.

Daenerys let Aringoth guide them and instructed him to take the long way so they passed through the market. She wanted rumors to get around about the strikes on the skooma dens. The point was to scare the thieves in Riften into taking shelter in the sewers and the Ragged Flagon. Having crowds of people see her being escorted around town by the Riften Guard would help as well. Daenerys took her time, stopping to talk to the crowds and sometimes heal the injured.

One man was very persistent in flagging her down. “Dragonborn! Please. My wife! She’s sick. Please heal her. She’s not getting better.”

This was a request that Daenerys had heard before and turned politely away because she couldn’t heal the sick. It wasn’t even taught at the College of Winterhold. There were potions that cured disease, and priests could cure most ailments, but mages just couldn’t. That was one of the many reasons that Colette Marence had claimed that faith in the gods was superior to using a Seeming for Restoration. Yet, the man holding his wife looked worried, and his wife did look pale and sweaty.

“I heal injuries. You should take your wife to the Temple of Mara, or to the Shrine of Talos.” They would ask for a small donation of time or money, but they wouldn’t turn her away if they couldn’t pay.

“Please, Dragonborn. She’s getting weaker.”

The sincerity of his plea touched her, and his wife didn’t look good. Riften wasn’t suffering from a plague, but the woman reminded Daenerys of those who caught the Pale Mare in Meereen. Daenerys had never attempted to heal sickness before, but priests could, and she was using faith now. She might be able to cure the woman. However, if she tried here in public and failed, word would get around. That would hurt her reputation, and of all her weapons her reputation was the most important. Yet, discounting the pain and suffering of the common people was a dangerous slope, one she had slipped down before. Grandfather had told her the gods would aid her, and Nura believed it as well. She remembered Grandfather’s words. Be bold. Be brave. Be fierce. “I will try. Bring her to me.”

“Thank you, Dragonborn!” said the man as he pushed his wife forward.

Up close Daenerys could see sweat dripping across her face. Daenerys gripped her amulet. Sometimes it felt almost alive, but now it just felt like metal. “Talos, please. This woman needs your aid. Work through me.” She pulled in magicka with her will, focused the flow upon the sick woman, and asked Talos to heal her, but nothing happened. She focused harder on the woman. She remembered the many who died from the Pale Mare. “Talos, please!” Magick flowed. She could feel it!

So could the woman. She gasped and her tired eyes opened. They looked clear. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Dragonborn.” The woman hugged her desperately as her husband also thanked her over and over.

Daenerys basked in their praise. It felt good to heal this one woman, but even better to know that she could heal sickness. That was beyond mages. Although she had to wonder. Did that make her a priestess?

“Lady Targaryen,” said Aringoth interrupting the moment. “There are some Riften guards approaching.”

“Thank you, Aringoth.” Daenerys turned to face them. She could count on Hemming Black-Briar to ruin a good mood.

However, it was not Hemming Black-Briar leading a score of men. It was Harrald Law-Giver and he only had three men with him. Honestly, she would have rather faced Hemming. The eldest Black-Briar was distasteful, but he consistently made mistakes, which she could turn to her advantage. She wondered if Maven had interfered and sent Harrald Law-Giver instead of her own son. Harrald didn’t bluster foolishly and had been much better at worming his way into her confidence, only to share everything he learned with Maven. There was also the matter of the assassination attempt. It had happened right after Harrald left. She didn’t think Harrald was involved with trying to murder her, but perhaps she just didn’t want to believe it.

Daenerys put on a polite smile and turned to face him. “Harrald, were you looking for me?”

“Yes, I was, Lady Targaryen. I’m glad you have some an escort today, but Maven suggested that it would be a good idea if I accompanied you today.”

“Maven suggested? Does that mean your mother is still ill today? I was looking forward to the feast.”

“Oh, no. My mother is much better today. She is looking forward to the feast and meeting you as well. Maven just suggested to my mother that you should be accompanied by someone appropriate to your station and not just some guards.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” She had started to wonder if Jarl Law-Giver was even alive. “I will also be glad for your company.” That was mostly a lie. He wasn’t confrontational like Hemming, but Harrald was a spy for Maven. However, he was also the heir to the throne of Riften, and maybe he could be swayed.

Daenerys looked up and gauged the sun trying to judge the time. Unsurprisingly, it was still morning. Summer days in Skyrim were freakishly long. The attack on the Thieves guild was set to happen at noon. Unlike Westeros there were no bells to toll the hour. Clocks were rare luxury items only the rich could afford. The Snow-Shods had one, but it was in their manor. There were a few public sundials, but none very convenient to where her troops would need to go. That made high noon the best time to use to coordinate the attack on the Thieves’ Guild. It would also give more time for rumors to spread that the skooma dens had been attacked. With any luck most of the thieves would choose to hide things out in the sewers. Currently, that meant she had to stall a bit. “We were just on our way to the Gold & Needle to check on the dresses I ordered yesterday.”

Harrald’s smile thinned a bit, but he nodded his agreement. “I will gladly accompany you to the Gold & Needle and anywhere else you want to go in Riften.”

Daenerys wanted to laugh. Harrald had been bored almost from the moment they stepped foot in the Gold & Needle the day before. No doubt he was like most men. He probably only noticed how much a dress revealed and was a lot more focused on getting women out of their clothes. “Well, let us be off.”

As they continued on their way, the three guards that Harrald had brought mingled in with the five she had acquired. Eight men was a significant escort, and they kept the crowds back.

“Lady Targaryen, I also received a report that the Dragonguard attacked a skooma den this morning inside the walls of Riften. Would you care to explain that? I remember you telling Lady Black-Briar that you would be releasing the Dragonguard on leave.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? Maven and I were discussing this just last night over dinner, don’t you recall? The Dragonguard is not supported by taxes, tariffs, or donations. We have to support ourselves, very much like a mercenary company. Maven and I even discussed possible targets that the Draonguard might clear out for the bounty and spoils.”

“Yes,” agreed Harrald. “However, that was outside of Riften. It is one thing for the Dragonguard to clear out bandits or some other trouble out in the countryside. It is another matter altogether for you to be attacking criminals inside the walls of Riften. It is the responsibility of the Riften Guard to uphold the laws in Riften.”

“Well, they obviously aren’t doing a very good job about it! The skooma dens aren’t exactly hidden. I learned about them when talking with my new friend Mjoll the Lioness this morning. Do you know Mjoll?”

Harrald frowned. “Yes, I know Mjoll. She is quite determined to wipe out the Thieves’ Guild. Even though there is no guild, I heartily approve of cracking down on thieves. However, some of her ideas about the Black-Briars are quite fanciful.”

“If you say, so. I found her level-headed and knowledgeable. She was able to direct me to three skooma dens. My men are clearing them out as we speak. The Dragonguard will claim the spoils and that will keep us in gold for a bit longer.”

“Three? I just knew of the one. Lady Targaryen, I’m sure you mean well, but you can’t have your men just go attacking Riften citizens. I know they’re criminals, but it is the responsibility of the jarl to protect the city.”

“Then why have the Law-Givers failed at their duty to protect Riften, Harrald Law-Giver?” She waved a hand at him. “Wait, don’t bother to answer that, let me tell you. The Law-Givers have done nothing because the Riften Guard is corrupt. If the guard had raided the skooma dens, they would have found empty buildings and the criminals long gone. Isn’t that right?”

“Maybe you have a point, but I think you judge us too harshly. Corruption is not a thing that is so easily stamped out.”

“I suppose not. It is almost like there was someone at the very top involved in the corruption.”

“Ah, that right there!” Harrald shook his head. “That’s what I was talking about with Mjoll’s flights of fancy. Mjoll is convinced that Maven Black-Briar is behind everything wrong in Riften. That’s simply not true. People want to blame someone else rather than take responsibility. We have a lot of poor people who turn to crime, but people blame the Thieves Guild. My mother cannot snap her fingers and make more jobs available. Rather than blame her, the people blame Maven. She’s a hard woman and deals in reality. That makes her a realist, not some witch controlling my mother.”

Daenerys wondered if it was possible Maven was a witch, or at least a mage. Illusion magic excelled at convincing people that their friends were enemies, and their enemies were friends. Could it be that simple? Maybe the jarl and Harrald were both under a spell. At any rate it didn’t seem worth arguing. “So, how does your mother plan to solve Riften’s problems?”

“My mother supports the Stormcloaks because it is the right thing to do, but the war will be good for Riften. We’ll press the excess citizenry into the guard and send them to war. The ones who survive, we’ll pay in land, create some new settlements in the wilderness of Riften.”

Daenerys took a moment to think that through that plan before replying. “I actually like that plan, but if you have unsettled land, why wait for the war? You could be doing that now.”

Harrald shook his head. “Just give land away? No. Paying veterans of war in land instead of gold? That’s different.”

“Is it?” Wouldn’t it be better to have the people working, producing food which could be sold and taxed rather than have wilderness sitting out there not being used? “I’m not sure I agree on that, but I think we drifted away from where we stared. Does your mother have a problem with the Dragonguard taking out the skooma dens?”

He sighed. “She has no problems with the skooma dens being wiped out. They’re criminals, and she’ll be glad they’re gone. She will be unhappy that you are not working with the Riften Guard. Hemming will also be upset about it. You made him look bad again. Maven will naturally side with her son. It’s rather obvious that you and the Black-Briars aren’t getting along. If you want to move against someone else inside the walls of Riften, would you involve Hemming next time? He is the Captain of the Riften Guard now.”

“You know if the guard is informed, the criminals would know shortly after? I’m not convinced the Black-Briars aren’t corrupt, but even if they are honorable, the Riften Guard is full of rotten apples.”

Harrald looked over at her. “Gods, you’re already planning something else, aren’t you? Would you be willing to inform me directly, or my mother? We’ll keep it close. Just our personal household retainers. We can inform Hemming just before you do your strike when it is too late for anything to leak out.”

“Very well, I’ll agree to that.” She gave him a reassuring smile. Harrald probably wouldn’t be happy when she told them just before the attack on the Thieves’ Guild began, but it would keep the letter of her agreement if not the spirit. “Oh look, here we are, the Gold & Needle. Don’t frown so. I just need to check the fit and have any adjustments made. We won’t be long.”

Harrald’s smile looked a little forced. “Of course, Lady Targaryen.”

“And what’s with this Lady Targaryen? Didn’t I tell you to call me Daenerys?”

“Sorry, Daenerys. I am perfectly happy to accompany you to the Gold & Needle.”

Daenerys smiled. One thing she liked about Harrald, he was a bad liar.

.oOo.

The fitting didn’t take very long and Daenerys was quite pleased with the result. She had no problem wearing Nord fashions in winter, but they weren’t very flattering. The Bosmer dress was much superior. The seamstress showed her the dress she had for Sofija as well, not as daring, but still more revealing than the current Nord fashion. Daenerys was tempted to draw things out just to annoy Harrald but decided to move on to their next stop.

“Daenerys, we’re here.” Aringoth pointed to a large building.

At first look the building looked long abandoned. The windows were boarded up and nailed shut. The chinking between the logs was crumbling in places and needed to be refreshed. There was a place for a signboard out front, but no sign. However, she could clearly hear the sound of people cheering and screaming within the building.

“M’lady,” asked one of the guards nervously. “Do you know what this place is?”

“I was just wondering that myself,” added Harrald. “Is this another skooma den?”

Daenerys laughed. “Oh, no it’s not a skooma den. It’s an arena. They have fights here: dog fights, creature fights, brawling, but the main attraction is unsurprisingly people fighting each other with weapons, both individuals and teams.”

“That’s illegal. You can’t run an arena without the approval of the Fighters Guild. There used to be one in Windhelm, but it’s been shut down since the Great War. I thought you promised to give me warning the next time you moved on any criminals inside Riften.”

Daenerys smiled. “I did give my word, and I haven’t done anything yet, but you’re here with me. Consider this your warning. However, we’re not here to shut this place down. As far as I’m aware they’re not actually doing anything criminal.”

“I just told you running an arena is illegal without the Fighters Guild overseeing the fights.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Yes, but the Guilds Act that you mentioned to me yesterday…” It seemed much longer ago. “… that is an Imperial law. Riften is in rebellion against the Empire. That means Imperial law doesn’t apply. If two Nords want to fight, they can. Isn’t that Nord tradition?”

“That’s a fair point.” He frowned and then nodded. “I don’t think anyone considered that all guilds are licensed by the Empire. We’ve been following Imperial law for so long. I suppose an arena could be legal now, but it should be licensed by my mother. They would have to keep a ledger, pay taxes, and I’m not sure that they aren’t squatting. They would also have to own this building, but running an arena would not necessarily be illegal. However, these people are not approved today. I sincerely doubt they are keeping a ledger or paying taxes. That makes them criminals.”

“If you say so.” Daenerys shrugged. “However, I didn’t come here to shut them down. I came here to recruit warriors. Rather than trying to throw everyone in jail, maybe you could have a word with whoever is running the place. Let them know they need to get the jarl’s approval and pay their taxes.”

Harrald nodded. “I like it. It’s practical.”

“Good, now if we’re done talking, I have fighting men to hire.” She marched up to the heavy door, pulled it open, and walked right inside.

The Riften Guards hurried in the door behind her and spread out in front of her reforming their protective wedge in front of her.

The interior was one large room. Chinks in the walls and gaps in the windows admitted some light, and several torches were scattered around the room, but it still took a moment for her eyes to adjust. However, there was no doubt this was the right place. She heard people yelling and cheering and above that the unmistakable sound of clashing steel. As her eyes adjusted she could make out several rows of seats tiered like the bleachers of a theater. People were standing on them and yelling loudly. A tavern wench with a tray full of drinks was working the crowd. On the far wall she could also make out two large black chalkboards. Upon one was apparently the current match. “Fenrig 2 : 1 Thelen”. On another board appeared to be some kind of overall ranking as it listed ten names with 1st at the top and 10th at the bottom. At the top of the board, a number 1 in front of his name was Tors. She had to suppress a laugh at that. Torvar apparently didn’t go very far to find an alias.

“Hey,” called a large brute of a Nord. His hair was blond, wild, and unkempt as was his beard. He was shirtless with intricate blue paint not just on his face, but completely covering his chest. “Get out of here! We’re paid up with Maven and the Thieves’ Guild!” He had a large axe in his hands and looked ready to use it.

Daenerys laughed. Yes, he’d said that right in front of Harrald No-Thieves-Guild-in-Riften. She looked at Harrald. “Now isn’t that interesting? No Thieves’ Guild? Maven isn’t corrupt?”

Harrald looked like he’d swallowed something sour. Maybe it was a reality potion.

Daenerys decided not to rub Harrald’s nose in it any further. “Gentlemen, I appreciate the protection and the shield wall, but open up a bit and let me talk with him.”

The guards parted for her, but they didn’t lower their shields.

Daenerys looked at the barechested man with all the body paint. “Don’t worry, I’m not here for my cut. I have no problems with Nords wanting to beat each other up. If that’s how they want to live their lives, that’s fine with me. I’m here to recruit men for the Dragonguard.”

The angry scowl vanished from his face, and he lowered his axe so fast the blade hit the floor with a thump. He didn’t let go of the hilt though. “You’re… You’re the Dragonborn!”

While the fight was still going on in the pit from the sound of steel striking steel, almost everyone in the audience had turned to watch the confrontation. A few had slipped out, but most of them were just watching as if this was part of the day’s entertainment. Daenerys raised her voice. “Yes, I am the Dragonborn, Lady Daenerys Targaryen, First of My Name, Thane of Winterhold, Thane of Whiterun, Companion of Jorrvaskr, and Ysmir, Dragon of the North. I am here because I heard that this is where to go to find men who aren’t afraid to fight. The Dragonguard is hiring. We’ve fought two dragons. Both are dead. So, ask yourself. Do you want to fight in a dark arena hidden away in Riften for a few septims; your only glory a name on a board that is wiped away for the next fight? Or do you want to fight for real honor, for glory, for Skyrim!”


	34. Chapter 32

# Chapter 32

Sundas, the 3rd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

The name of the illegal arena was the Forgotten Hole. The name of the huge blond with the wild hair and the painted chest was Burly Orryn. He turned out to be the bouncer and manager, but not the owner. He was also the first in line to join the Dragonguard. She had hoped to get five or six additional warriors for today. She had a lot more express interest. Fortunately, Torvar was present and was able to help her sort the wheat from the chaff. She hired eight of them immediately at his recommendation at mercenary rates including Burly Orryn. The rest she told that the Dragonguard was still hiring and that she would send her drillmaster by tomorrow to see who could make the cut. Torvar also told them to pass the word along. Before noon was apparently a slow time at the Forgotten Hole.

As she was interviewing potential recruits, she overheard bits and pieces of Harrald Law-Giver talking to Burly Orryn. The real owner of the Forgotten Hole was Sibbi Black-Briar. Sibbi was Hemming’s younger brother, technically half-brother according to Karliah. He was currently serving time in the Riften jail for murder. Since the Black-Briars could easily afford the weregild, that meant that either Jarl Law-Giver or Maven wanted him in jail rather than free. Harrald’s questioning about Sibbi grew increasingly loud. Then he got a grip on himself and changed the subject to the Forgotten Hole’s connection to the Thieves Guild. Burly Orryn started describing Brynjolf and Sapphire in detail. Daenerys recognized both of them from Karliah’s list of potential Nightingales. Daenerys found the shocked expression on Harrald’s face amusing, but from his argumentative tone, he was still in denial about how deeply the rot went.

When she added her newly acquired mercenaries to the Riften Guard and her own men, she now had seventeen warriors under her command, plus Harrald and Barbas. More than she expected to have when she left Snow-Shod Manor. There was the downside that they had never fought together before, but she felt she had more than enough to fulfill her part of the plan. Which was a good thing as it was time to be moving.

“Everyone, listen up!” The room grew quiet. Perhaps Shouting had improved her ability to yell as well? “We’re moving out now! Riften guard, I want you in a wedge in front. Harrald, Lydia, Aringoth, and Torvar, you’re with Barbas and me in the middle. New bloods, you’re bringing up the back. We’re heading to the Shrine of Talos. I explain more when we get there.”

Everyone moved. It wasn’t the organized march of the Dragonguard on the road, but they all kept together. Daenerys gave the sun a glance. Not quite noon yet, so they were right on time.

“Why do I have the feeling that we’re not just going to the Shrine of Talos to pray?” asked Harrald as they walked quickly through Riften.

Daenerys glanced over at him. She could try to deny things, but there wasn’t a point. “Because you’re not a fool, Harrald Law-Giver. You have just been deceived by people you trusted. That’s not your fault. It’s happened to me, more than once.”

“You mean Maven, don’t you?” Harrald scowled. “Sibbi was always a bad seed. There is something wrong with him.”

Daenerys shrugged. “If you say so.”

“That Burly Orryn is half-mad. He’s not wearing armor even now.”

“I won’t argue with that.” she agreed pleasantly. Harrald knew better than she did that some Nord berserkers charging into battle wearing nothing but warpaint. She would have to admit that wasn’t quite sane, but the Nords hailed them as heroes. Daenerys raised her voice. “Hey, Orryn would you say you are half-mad or three-quarters mad?”

“I’m all the way mad!” he bellowed back at her. “I have tea with Sheogorath every Turdas.”

Everyone but Harrald broke out laughing at that. Even Barbas made that choking bark that passed for his laughter.

“Gods help us,” said Harrald. “What else do you have planned for today?”

“Ask me again when get to the Shrine of Talos.” To her surprise Harrald stopped asking questions after that although he seemed deep in thought. Daenerys kept her eyes on the streets. More than once they passed other Riften Guards, but none of them tried to stop her troops. In fact, some of them saluted as they passed. They had to push their way through a small crowd as they passed the Temple of Mara. Noon on Sundas was one of the more popular times for the faithful to visit the temples, and the Temple of Mara was by far the largest temple in Riften. Thankfully, the crowds gave way for them and they soon arrived at the Shrine of Talos.

The main feature of the shrine was a large statue of Talos standing head and shoulders above the tallest Nord. The statue depicted him as a warrior, not an emperor. He was wearing ringmail, a cloak, and a winged helmet. His visage could best be described as stern. He was poised standing over an enormous serpent and preparing to thrust down into its head with a two-handed sword. Daenerys guessed that the statue was probably based on one of the many heroic deeds of Tiber Septim. To the left of the statue was one of the axe-sword things that was the holy symbol for Talos. She would have to ask Nura what the symbol of Talos was supposed to depict when things weren’t so rushed. Was it supposed to be the head of an axe? Or was it the hilt of a sword that was thrust into the ground? The latter seemed to make more sense. Thrusting a sword into the ground could be an act of claiming dominion over a land. For that matter, the snake that was depicted in the statue might not be one of Tiber Septim’s deeds. Snakes were a symbol of Sithis, the Nord god of chaos and evil. Or maybe she was reading too much into things? The statue was also surrounded by butterflies flittering about. That almost certainly didn’t have a deeper meaning.

Currently, the priestess who might answer her questions, Nura Snow-Shod, was talking quietly with an old man. Nura glanced at her over the man’s shoulder and gave her a nod. “You need to be going now, Bjik. I need to speak with the Dragonborn now.”

“Dragonborn?” asked the old man. “Oh. Of course.” He bowed deeply. “So sorry, Dragonborn.” He stepped away and headed out.

Nura nodded at her. “Daenerys, looks like you’re on time. It’s not quite noon yet, but it’s getting close. You said that you would recruit some men, but I didn’t expect so many.”

“Why not?” Daenerys spoke loudly enough for the men to hear. “These men were willing to fight just for prize money. Is it surprising that Nords would rather fight for honor? They’ll still get paid, but now they have a reason to fight.”

Nura laughed over the cheers of her men. “And this is why Talos has chosen you, Daenerys Targaryen. You see deeper than most, and your words call to the warrior in the hearts of all men. Talos is many things, but he is the god of warriors and good leaders.”

That started more cheering from her mercenaries. Even the Riften Guards joined in.

“What I want to know,” interrupted Harrald Law-Giver. “Is what is going on here. I think I’ve been patient more than enough.”

Daenerys gave a little shrug to Nura. “Very well.” She stepped forward to Nura and turned around to face everyone. That this put the statue of Talos behind her was a welcome bit of symbolism she was happy to exploit. She quickly scanned the group that was assembled.

“Before I explain, let me make one thing clear. I know the Riften Guard is corrupt. There are those within it that can be bribed and report more to the Thieves’ Guild and Maven Black-Briar than the jarl. I also know that Sibbi Black-Briar owned the Forgotten Hole and the Thieves’ Guild rigged the fights. I don’t really care about the past. Right here. Right now. You all have a chance to be honorable, but if any one of you tries to slink away before this fight is done, the rest of us will cut you down like a cowardly dog.”

<Hey now, that was uncalled for.> said Barbas.

Daenerys ignored Barbas knowing that all anyone else heard was barking. She kept her focus on the people in front of her. Her newly hired mercenaries were nodding approval as were most of the Riften guards. However, some of them wouldn’t meet her eye. She made a note of their faces so she could keep an eye on them. “Now, as to what is going on, today we’re going to destroy the Thieves Guild.” She looked over to Harrald and waited a pause, but he didn’t interrupt to claim that there was no Thieves Guild. “Even as we speak the rest of my Dragonguard is moving into position. They are blocking the exits to eleven different sewers. At noon, they will sound their horns as a signal and enter the sewers. Once in the sewers they will fight their way through the ratways to the Ragged Flagon.

“I know the Riften Guard has tried this before and failed. That’s because the Thieves’ Guild was tipped off and were already hiding. We also know something they didn’t. Just a short distance from here in the cemetery is a tomb that holds the back entrance to the Thieves Guild. It’s a long distance from any of the other sewer tunnels. Even if the Thieves’ Guild wasn’t tipped off, they could easily slip out the back. All that the Riften Watch found were beggars and people with no place else to stay living in the sewer. Not today. Today when the true members of the Thieves Guild try to sneak out, we will be waiting for them.

“We’ll probably only capture the first few, after that they’ll hear us fighting up top and slink back to hide in the sewers. I’m certain we’ll have to go in and dig them out of their holes like rats. That’s when you’ll earn your pay. Warriors of the Forgotten Hole, I want you to take the lead. There will be beggars mixed in and people who live in the sewers because they have no home. I want captures. Not kills. All of you have made a living fighting each other for sport. You know how to take a man down, but pull your blows so as not to kill them. Today you will put that skill to good use.” What she was saying was true, but she was exaggerating a little. All warriors learned how to pull their blows. She had learned it herself when training with the Companions. You didn’t fight to the death in training duels.

There were cheers from her newly acquired mercenaries. “Yeah, take them down!” “Stick it to the Thieves’ Guild!”

“Yes, yes.” She waved her hands in a quieting motion. “Let’s keep it down. We are trying to do an ambush here. Now, a few more instructions. “Torvar, you’re on prisoner detail. Nura brought rope. I want you to make sure everyone is secured, and no one escapes. We’ll sort the thieves from the poor after the battle is over.”

Torvar gave her a serious nod and raised his axe. “I’ll handle it Shield-Sister.”

Daenerys hoped he got the message. Torvar knew the faces of many of the real thieves and she wanted them very well secured. She would hopefully have a chance to have a quiet conversation with him shortly. “Nura Snow-Shod will be with us. She can heal, so can I. If any of you take a serious injury, drop back and get healed. We should have enough men to cover you.” She looked over to Harrald. “I want you to stay back with Nura and protect her. I don’t want any harm to befall her.”

Harrald didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. “I will do that, but we also need to talk.”

“We will, Harrald Law-Giver, once we are in position outside the exit. I’m almost done here…” Daenerys trailed off as she heard the distant sound of multiple horns. Barbas heard them as well from his barking. “Or not! That’s the signal! Something went wrong. The attack is starting now. Aringoth! Double time. Lead us to the crypt!”

Aringoth took the lead and everyone followed after him.

Daenerys gave a quick glance to Harrald. “Stay with Nura and follow after us at her pace. Hopefully, we’ll still have time to talk.” Daenerys left them both and hurried after the rest of the men.

As she left she heard Harrald complain. “I didn’t hear any horns!”

Daenerys frowned at that comment. The sound of horns had been faint, but clear to her. No doubt, she had only heard them because of her werewolf senses. Hopefully, that wouldn’t cause questions later, but she didn’t have time to care. She needed to get her forces into position before every real member of the Thieves’ Guild escaped out their back door.

Fortunately, their destination wasn’t far. At the far end of the Riften cemetery was a small stone tomb backing up against the Temple of Mara. The tomb wasn’t sealed. It didn’t even have a door. There was just an open archway leading to a small chamber containing a marble casket.

“Alright, everyone spread out. According to my information, the lid on that casket rolls back to reveal a ladder directly accessing the Thieves’ Guild. I want everyone out of sight of that doorway. Once the Dragonguard fights their way to the Ragged Flagon, I expect them all to come pouring out. I want to take them out here in the cemetery where we can surround them and overwhelm them with numbers.” Everyone was still looking at her. “Move it! Now!”

Everyone started scattering around and quickly got out of sight of the main doorway. Daenerys moved a few of them around so that the Riften Guard and her newly hired mercenaries were intermixed. She made sure that Nura and Harrald were hidden off to the side and in back. Nura should be safe there, and she didn’t want to talk to Harrald right now.

Before she could go, Nura grabbed her hand. “Talos be with you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

Daenerys felt something touch her spirit with Nura’s blessing. It also seemed to linger like a warmth in her amulet. She wasn’t sure what Nura had done, but that blessing had been more than mere words. “Talos be with you as well.”

She hurried over to the opposite side and waited. Now that they were in position there was nothing to do but wait. She wondered what had gone wrong. Why had the Dragonguard attacked early? Had someone been impatient and simply misjudged the time? Or had one of her teams been spotted loitering near a sewer exit? Or had someone tried to slip away to warn the thieves? Any of them were possible. This attack was inherently difficult because they had to cover all the sewer entrances.

As they waited, eleven different teams should be making their way through different sewer entrances. Eight teams of three on the smaller tunnels. Three teams of four on the main tunnels. As they progressed down the hallways, the teams would meet at the various intersections and link up. Eventually, they would all converge on the Ragged Flagon. From the Ragged Flagon the sewers divided into a maze of corridors called the Warrens, but the Warrens were a dead end. All of that was cover and concealment for the true thieves. There was a secret passage that led to the cistern where the Thieves’ Guild was based and that connected to the back door they were watching. Technically, there was a second back door. That one led to Mercer Frey’s house, but Karliah and Galdrus were guarding that entrance. So many different moving pieces. So many ways things could go wrong.

From inside the tomb came a grinding sound of stone on stone. She held up a hand singling everyone to wait. A brown-haired man wearing dark leathers poked his head out and immediately dove back inside. “Trap! It’s an ambush. Back down! Back down!”

“Now!” shouted Daenerys, but she hardly needed to do so. Just about everyone rushed forward. She was too far in the back to see what happened, but it was quickly over. “Clear the path. Let me through.”

Once she was able to enter the crypt, she found two men out cold. One was the man who had peeked through the archway. The other was a Breton with a shaved head. That one was probably Delvin Mallory. He was on the list as a possible Nightingale. So much for her plan for ambushing them out in the open where she could use superior numbers against them. “You two, take them to Torvar. Don’t leave until they’re tied up. We’ll deal with them later.”

Daenerys tried the hidden latch which was supposed to unlock the fake casket, but nothing happened. “They’ve locked it from the other side. Step back!”

She took a deep breath, inhaled, and Shouted. “ **Mul!** ” Mul meant strength. It was the middle word of the Mir-Mul-Nir, Allegiance-Strong-Hunt. It made her blows much more powerful for a short span of time, but it was also one of the most dangerous Words in her arsenal. It was meant for dragons, not mortals. If she used it to often, the strain would kill her. However, strength was just what she needed. She brought her mace down and slammed it into the locking mechanism, and again, and again.

The stone gave way with a sudden snap.

“Everyone help me push.” Daenerys grabbed the lid of the coffin and shoved it back. Hands appeared beside her as others joined and they slid the lid off and back into a recess.

Her reward for moving the lid was for someone to try to shoot her with an arrow. She quickly ducked back out of the way. “Stay back.” She reached into her beltpouch for a magicka potion, uncorked it, and guzzled it down. It tasted vile, but she could feel it start to work immediately. “Give me a moment for the potion to kick in, and I’ll Shout down the tunnel. Barbas!”

It took a moment, but the daedra pretending to be a dog wormed his way through the warriors standing in the small crypt. <You bellowed?>

“I’m about to Shout. That should make the archer down there back up. When he does, I want you to jump down. It’s less than two stories.”

Burly Orryn laughed. “You’re talking to a dog, and you called me mad.”

<Yeah, yeah,> replied Barbas.

Burly Orryn shook his head in surprise. “Maybe, I am mad. He’s talking back.”

Daenerys was just as surprised at Burly Orryn. Had he understood Barbas? Or was he just commenting on the way he barked back when she talked to him? That was a question for later. Enough time had passed that she felt she could shout again. She leaned over the shaft and Shouted three words. **Yol** , the consuming hunger of the flame. **Toor** , the rage of a firestorm. **Shul** , the purifying cleansing heat of the sun. Each a primal force by itself. Together they exploded into the same devasting blast of fire that dragons used. She pulled away immediately to clear the path.

As soon as she did Barbas leapt through the opening.

“Go!” urged Daenerys. “Go! Go! Go!” She got out of the way and let everyone rush through. They were eager and it wasn’t long until it was just herself, Torvar, Harrald, and Nura. “Torvar, once we’re down use the ropes and lower the prisoners down. The Riften Guard are on the way, and I don’t trust them to keep them secure.”

Torvar nodded. “Got it, Shield-Sister. They might get a little banged up lowering them, but I’ll handle it.”

She gave him a nod. “Nura if – ”

“I’m not made out of glass. I’m coming.”

Daenerys laughed and headed down the ladder. A charred corpse lay at the foot of the ladder. She jumped over it and found herself in a large underground chamber. Karliah had called this place a cistern. It wasn’t the kind that stored water in arid lands. It was built to hold the overflow that came during the spring rains so the sewage didn’t back up into the streets. Even now during summer sewage flowed in from multiple pipes at the top of the room and pooled in the center of the room. While it was certainly hidden and out of sight, the place reeked. What did it say about the Thieves’ Guild that they called a place like this their headquarters?

Multiple tunnels came off the central room and she could see the Riften Guard and her mercenaries exploring. A large vault door stood open and the room beyond was empty. Only about a third of her men were present. From the bodies on the ground, there had clearly been a fight. Two people had also surrendered and were sitting on the floor with their hands held behind their heads. She heard the sound of fighting and barking coming from a corridor off to her left.

“Everyone in here. Secure the prisoners. Secure the ladder.” Daenerys heard some of them shout agreement, but she was already in motion.

She followed the sound of combat through a narrow twisty tunnel and found herself in a second cistern. Like the guildhall for the Thieves’ Guild it was a large room with a central pool. However, this cistern was set up as a tavern complete with a bar at one end and tables scattered around the room. This could only be the infamous Ragged Flagon.

She saw some fighting going on in the tavern, but it was decidedly lopsided. Her forces outnumbered the few people who hadn’t run. Daenerys spent the rest of the fight trying to restore order. The Riften guards at least fought together. The mercenaries she’d acquired acted like this was a sport. They were just as intent on chasing people who were trying to flee and hide as they were in taking out the few who were fighting back. Not to mention there were at least two corpses floating the sewage. She wasn’t happy to see one of the dead was a woman. She really hoped that no one had killed the face sculptor. She ended up Shouting **Fus** to get everyone’s attention. They had run out of rope, so she had her followers strip the prisoners naked and tie them up their own clothes.

The prisoners weren’t yet secure when more people she didn’t know started running into the Ragged Flagon. Her men quickly moved to engage them, and they started surrendering in mass. Not long later the Dragonguard started pouring into the Ragged Flagon like a bunch of angry ants who had their anthill kicked. Sofija and Mjoll the Lioness were leading the charge.

“Sofija! Mjoll!” Daenerys cheered. “Welcome to the Ragged Flagon!”


	35. Chapter 33

# Chapter 33

Sundas, the 3rd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

That battle for the Ragged Flagon didn't last long. Caught between the Dragonguard and her mercenaries most of the beggars and thieves surrendered quickly. A few people had to be fished out of the sewage pond in the center of the chamber, but even that didn't take long. It was certainly possible that an Argonian or two escaped by hiding underwater or swimming out through flooded pipes. There wasn't anything they could do about that. They didn't have any Argonians in the Dragonguard to check. However, a few people escaping didn't matter much in the scheme of things. She ordered Marcus to secure the prisoners, send the injured to Nura for healing, and systematically loot everything of value. He immediately took charge using the men assigned to him and began making order out of chaos with typical Imperial efficiency.

However, her war against the Thieves' Guild wasn't over yet. They still had to clear out the twisty maze of passages known as the Warrens. With all the people that had fled, some were certainly hiding down there. According to her information from Karliah, the Warrens were a dead end – except for the secret passage to Mercer Frey's home. However, Daenerys couldn't be certain that there weren't other secret passages out of the Warrens that Karliah didn't know about. Daenerys put Sofija in charge of searching every nook and cranny of the Warrens and capturing everyone hiding down there.

While Marcus and Sofija oversaw their parts of the operation, Daenerys sent Jenassa to find the secret passage to Mercer Frey's house. According to Karliah's scribbles, it was a shaft in the ceiling that would require a tall ladder to reach from below. Unfortunately, Karliah's mapmaking skills left a lot to be desired, which was why she needed Jenassa to locate the passageway and hopefully make contact with Karliah at the top of the shaft. Equally important, they needed to find it without letting any of the Riften Guards or Harrald Law-Giver finding out.

That still left a lot of other important details. "Torvar, Shield-Brother, I need your help," said Daenerys beckoning him to her side.

Torvar gave her a nod and hurried over. "How can I help?"

"Walk with me." She led him a little bit away so they could have a more private talk. "You haven't been in contact with Jenassa for days, so you missed out on some events. We had someone on the highest levels of the Thieves' Guild defect to our side. That's the reason we've been able to move so fast."

"Are you sure you can trust him? A thief is still a thief."

"He is a she, and she is a Dunmer. The guildmaster of the Thieves' Guild killed her lover and tried to kill her. She wants revenge."

Torvar laughed. "Well, I think we can trust a Dunmer to do whatever it takes to get revenge, but it still doesn't mean we can trust her after."

"I've got leverage on her." Torvar didn't need to know about Nightingales. The fewer people who know about her spies the better, and it was better that no one who didn't already know discover that she made a deal with Nocturnal. "One of the things I got out of her was a list of the officers in the Thieves' Guild. I want these people found and I want them questioned by the Dragonguard – not the Rifties."

"That's going to be a good trick. How are you going to get them out under the Rifties' noses when you have several Riften Guards running around down here?"

Daenerys was less worried about the Riften Guards than Harrald Law-Giver, which was why she had him in the other room guarding Nura Snow-Shod. "Jenassa is working on that right now. It will be like a shell game. We'll keep their attention focused one way and slip them out another. What I need from you is to separate the wheat from the chaff. I have a list of names and descriptions. Hopefully, you'll recognize them."

Torvar nodded. "I'll try. I spent a lot of time drinking down here like you told me to. I know some names and faces. I can tell you many who are thieves and who are drunks, but I never sorted out who was an officer and who were the go-betweens. Who do you want me to find?"

"The top three are Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin Mallory. I'm pretty sure we already caught Delvin trying to escape out the back door. He should be moved here shortly. Marcus is concentrating all the prisoners in here so we can keep an eye on them." And so Harrald Law-Giver couldn't watch as they made some of them disappear.

"That I can do, Shield-Sister. All three of them hung out at the Ragged Flagon. Brynjolf was even the one who recruited me. He was also involved in rigging fights at the Forgotten Hole."

"Good." Those were the ones Karliah thought most likely to be worthy Nightingales. "I'm also interested in Galathil, she's the face-shaper, Thrynn, and Tonilia." She wanted the face-shaper to cure Faralda and as a resource. Thrynn and Sapphire were second-tier choices as Nightingales. Tonilia and Mercer together oversaw the fencing of everything the Thieves' Guild brought in. Daenerys wanted her questioned as to where the money went. Karliah was certain that Tonilia and Mercer had been skimming from the top for years. Daenerys intended to acquire everything she could to fill the Dragonguard's coffers.

"Tonilia, I know. She's a Redguard and a fence. She spent most of her days down here in the Ragged Flagon. I've seen the face-shaper, but she always had the hood of her cloak pulled down low. I never got a good look at her face. I never knew her name, but I'll look for her. I never heard of Thrynn."

"Even that much helps. I don't have a good description of Thrynn, just that he is a large brown-haired Nord. He has two horizontal marks in red facepaint on each cheek."

"I saw a man with red facepaint like that pass through the Ragged Flagon. Didn't get a name, but if he's down here. I'll find him."

"Good. Finding those people is top priority. Just make sure you know where they are. Don't separate them. I don't want to call attention to them. I'm also going to need you to finger all the other thieves you can. I'd like to give the Riften Guard at least a dozen so they don't notice we kept some out."

Torvar scoffed. "That won't be a problem. I can name two dozen even after you separate out the officers. I might finger some of the beggars, too. They're just as guilty. They're the eyes and ears for the Thieves Guild. They case places and get a cut afterward. I've heard some of them brag about picking pockets as well."

Daenerys felt a little bit uncomfortable at that. She had been a lookout and shilled for things like shell games when she had lived on the streets of Essos. When you didn't know where your next meal would come from, you did what was needed to survive. "Let the eyes and ears be. The ones that bragged about picking pockets, those are fair game."

"As you wish."

Daenerys reached out and grasped arms with Torvar in Companion fashion. "Good to have you back by my side, Shield-Brother."

Torvar laughed. "You certainly make things interesting, Shield-Sister." He walked over to where the prisoners were kept and began checking faces.

Daenerys looked around and didn't see anything else that she needed to handle in the Ragged Flagon, so she returned through the no longer hidden passage to the cistern that was the guildhall for the Thieves' Guild. A line of warriors and captured prisoners waited to be healed by Nura Snow-Shod. Harrald Law-Giver stood by her side standing watch. None of the men standing in line looked severely injured. Daenerys was relieved that Hemming and the Riften Guard hadn't found them yet. She had Shouted in the Riften graveyard and had expected someone to come investigate by now. She certainly wasn't going to complain about them being slow to respond. She moved over by Nura and started helping heal the wounded. With both of them working together they soon had everyone healed.

"So, this was the Thieves' Guild," said Harrald once the last wounded man was healed. "It really existed all along. I owe you an apology. You were right about that. How is your plan going to catch them all?"

"I never expected to catch every single thief in Riften. I'm sure that some of them escaped, but I believe I have captured their leadership and broken their back. They no longer have a safe place to hide. I would encourage your mother to make examples of the leaders, send a message. The few that remain will be much less bold in the future."

He nodded in agreement. "I'll push for that. I've never been fond of just throwing thieves in jail. I'd like to see them all executed. Really send a message."

"You might want to put some of them in crow's cages or in the pillory," suggested Daenerys. "Let the people see that that they've been captured."

Harrald nodded. "That's an excellent suggestion as well."

Daenerys considered Harrald a moment. Now that he had his nose rubbed in the truth, was he ready for more? She glanced over to Nura Snow-Shod.

Nura touched her talisman of Talos and dipped her head a bit.

Daenerys mulled over Nura's gesture. What did she mean? Trust Talos? She looked back to Harrald. Despite this being a victory, he had the air of a defeated man. She decided to push a little more. "Of course, a lot depends on whether or not Maven Black-Briar helps the Thieves' Guild get back on their feet."

Harrald scowled. "You've been talking to Mjoll the Lioness."

"No." Daenerys spoke firmly. "Mjoll just confirmed what Torvar reported. You saw me greet him as a Shield-Brother?"

"Aye, I did." Harrald sighed. "He's a Companion of Jorrvaskr?"

"He is. I sent him on ahead of the Dragonguard to look around. It took him less than half-a-day to be contacted by Thieves' Guild. He was also given a warning when he entered Riften. Care to guess what he was told?"

"Something about not crossing the Black-Briars? I've heard the rumors and they're false. The Black-Briars are loyal to my family."

If she had just met Harrald, he might have fooled her, but she could hear the doubt in his words. "Are you certain of that?" She focused her eyes on him.

"I have always believed that," he said the words firmly, but he turned to Nura Snow-Shod. "I did not expect to find you supporting the Dragonborn. You don't believe all of this about Maven, do you?"

"I've known for some time that Maven had unsavory connections. The Snow-Shods and the Black-Briars were allies, so I looked the other way. Sometimes you have to do some wrong to do what is right, but I let myself be blinded by our alliance. I did not dig too deeply because I feared what I might find. I did what helped Clan Snow-Shod, but not what was right. Now… I believe that everything that Mjoll said of Maven is true, and even more."

"But…" He looked from Nura to Daenerys and back to Nura. "When did you change your mind? Why?"

Nura held her amulet. "I knew for a long time. I let myself be deceived. Greed. Pride. I was wrong. The Dragonborn showed me a letter penned in Maven's own hand. What I saw shocked me. Maven has turned from the Nine. She is consorting with Sithis, and she hired the Dark Brotherhood."

"What letter?" He turned to Daenerys. "What letter?"

Daenerys shrugged. "I don't have it on me. Things were hectic this morning. I believe that Vulwulf Snow-Shod still has the letter."

"He does," agreed Nura.

"Letters can be forged." Harrald's reply sounded more like Hemming's sulk. He turned to Daenerys. "And why didn't you show me this 'proof' if you believe that Maven was behind the assassin that tried to kill you?"

"Because, as you said, letters can be forged, Harrald Law-Giver, and when a man's mind is already made up, he will not listen to reason." She could tell by the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn't really listening any longer. "I will be glad to discuss it later when you are willing to listen. I've spent enough time chatting while my men fight. I need to get back to my men and see what is going on. Please, protect Nura." She turned to the priestess. "I wish you luck trying to talk sense into him. I'm starting to wonder if the Law-Givers are under the effect of a spell."

Nura promptly disagreed. "They're not. Maven is merely very persuasive. She has a silver tongue, an eye for seeing to the heart of things, and the will to see things through."

"True enough." Daenerys remembered that she had even found Maven convincing. She walked away wondering if Harrald would take the easy route of letting her go or chase after her seeking answers. He stayed behind.

When she returned to the Ragged Flagon she found all the prisoners were bound securely and under the watchful gaze of Marcus and several of the Dragonguard. She noticed that Jenassa was back and quietly talking to Torvar.

"Marcus, Torvar, Janessa, come over here. I want to discuss the prisoners with you."

Torvar and Jenassa headed straight over to her. Marcus paused to issue some orders to the guards, but he was only a few paces behind them.

"So, we talked about this briefly at Snow-Shod Manor, but we didn't have time to go into details." Although Jenassa knew more than the other two. "There are some very important prisoners that I want questioned by the Dragonguard, and I don't want them caught by the Riften Guard. Understand?"

There were nods of agreement.

"So, first things first. Jenassa, you're back. Did you find the shaft in the ceiling that leads to Mercer Frey's house?"

"I did, and Galdrus dropped down a note tied around a rock. When I whistle, he will lower a rope. We secure the rope around the prisoner, and then Galdrus and Karliah pull them up."

"That will work." Under the circumstances it was the best she could hope for. "How visible will that be?"

"Very," said Jenassa. "It's right near the front of the Warrens. There are still men all over down there running around. You would have to station guards to keep it quiet."

"Then we'll do that. I don't care if the Dragonguard know. It's the Rifties that I want to keep in the dark." She turned to Torvar. "Shield-Brother, did you find who we're looking for?"

"I found all of them, but Thrynn and Tonilia are dead. Devin Mallory won't be going anywhere without healing, but he's in no danger. The rest are fine."

"Good. That's real good." Of the seven she wanted to acquire, she'd only lost three. She didn't consider Thrynn or Sapphire to be much of a loss since she had Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin Mallory. However, she would have liked to question Tonalia about the fencing side of the Thieves' Guild and see where the money was hiding. Too bad she was dead. At least Torvar found the face sculptor. "Now, here's what we're going to do…"

The problem she had was that they had eight members of the Riften Guard mixed in with her men and Harrald Law-Giver to keep in the dark. Mjoll the Lioness was still something of an unknown and might also be a problem, but she was down in the Warrens clearing them out. She had Marcus station Dragonguard in the Warrens blocking off access to the corridor with the hidden passage to Mercer Frey's home. She had Torvar supervise removing men from the Ragged Flagon.

The Dragonguard carried most of the prisoners into the cistern that was the former guildhall for the Thieves' Guild. There Torvar divided them into two groups. Thieves to be turned over to the Riften Guard on one side. Vagrants and beggars to be released on the other. All of that was just to distract Harrald and the Riften Guards. Torvar also pulled out the high priority prisoners. He gave them to Jon Battle-Born, Olfina Grey-Mane, and Jenassa to smuggle into the Warrens so that they could be passed to Karliah and Galdrus and stashed in Mercer Frey's home.

Daenerys watched the prisoner shuffle unfold. This was very much a shell game. She was making sure that the Riften Guard and Harrald had plenty to see while she moved the prize off to the side. It should work.

As the last priority prisoner, Delvin Mallory, was removed Jenassa returned and started marching toward her with a determined stride. "Lady Targaryen, Karliah sent another message. She wants you to climb up the rope and meet with her now. She claimed it was important."

Daenerys was sure it was important. Unfortunately, many things were important right now. One of them was not getting caught smuggling out the high priority prisoners. Another was being ready to intercept Hemming Black-Briar when the Riften Guard finally showed up. She couldn't do that if she was in Mercer Frey's home. However, the Riften Guard wasn't here yet.

"I'll come speak to her, but we'll have to make it quick." Daenerys raised her voice so it could be heard across the room. "Marcus, I'm accompanying Olfina to the Warrens. I'll be back shortly."

Marcus nodded. "If anyone shows up, what should I tell them?"

"Have them wait. I shouldn't be long." She turned to Olfina. "Lead the way."

Lydia fell in behind her as Olfina lead them through a door and into a multistoried room. Off to the side at the very top was a rope hanging down. Without the rope to act as a guide for the eye, it would be hard to spot the opening in the ceiling. Before she even gave the order, Lydia went up the rope making it look easy. Daenerys followed with difficulty. It wasn't so much the weight of the armor. She was strong enough to pull herself up. The problem was gripping a rope while wearing metal gauntlets and boots. Fortunately, the rope had knots tied in it, and she made her way to the top with only a little bit of struggling. At the top Galdrus helped pull her up into what was presumably Mercer Frey's house.

"This had better be important."

"It is. Trust me." He turned and walked away before she could reply. Galdrus led them down a twisty trapped corridor, past a room where the priority prisoners from the Thieves' Guild were bound in ropes, and into another room.

Karliah was in the room, but Daenerys only gave her a brief glance. Her attention was drawn to Karliah's victim, Mercer Frey. She had never met the man, but it couldn't be anyone else. He was a shell of the man he'd once been. His left eye was an empty socket. His fingernails were missing. His skin had been removed over much of his chest. All of those wounds were partially healed, which meant they could never be properly healed.

Daenerys felt sick at her stomach. She had seen the victims of torture before, including crucified children posted upon the road to convince her to turn back, but this was worse because she was responsible. She had been the one who had told Karliah to ditch her complicated plan and just take out Mercer in his home and be done with it. She had even suggested that Karliah put Mercer Frey to the question. Daenerys had wanted what was inside his head to help take down the Thieves' Guild and the Black-Briars. That had been days ago. The Thieves' Guild was already broken now, but what he knew about Maven Black-Briar might still matter. Yet, this was wrong. She knew that in her heart, but sometimes what was wrong was also necessary… and she remembered burning King's Landing. She had known it was wrong, but she had convinced herself that it was necessary. Or maybe she had gone mad. Was this the same? However, Karliah had also deserved her vengeance. Mercer had betrayed Gallus and Karliah, murdered Gallus, and tried to kill Karliah. She had the witch Mirri Maz Duur burned alive. Wasn't this the same?

Karliah knelt down beside Mercer Frey. "Mercer, she's here. The Dragonborn has come. What do you say to her?"

"I swear! I swear! I'll serve!" His voice had an unpleasant rasp to it as he begged and pleaded.

Daenerys felt a familiar flutter of wings followed by the sound of a cage door snapping shut. She couldn't see the tattoo on the back of her hand through her gauntlet, but she was certain that there was now a third black bird inside the gilded cage. Her third Nightingale, but not like this -

Karliah slapped him. "No. The other first. Tell him how Maven Black-Briar controls the jarl."

"Skooma! Her medicine! It's skooma! That's how."

Skooma? Daenerys suddenly felt the pieces click together. A disease that kept coming back no matter how many times it was healed. Magical healing cured the body. It would not cure the craving of an addict. Jarl Laila Law-Giver was addicted to skooma! Maven had provided her medicine. Saerlund had told her that. Probably small doses at first, getting her hooked calling it medicine until the jarl could barely think about anything else. This would take down Maven Black-Briar and the jarl with her.

Karliah stroked Mercer's hair. "Good. Now, say the oath, properly. Like I taught you."

"As, as a Nightingale of Nocturnal." Mercer coughed. "I pledge… I pledge to serve the Dragonborn in life and Nocturnal in death."

"Those weren't the words." Karliah kicked him in the kidneys.

Daenerys intervened. "Karliah, the words were enough. Just him swearing to me was enough. Intent matters more than the exact words."

Karliah smiled. "You're certain?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good." Karliah drew her knife and with one swift motion cut Mercer's throat from ear to ear. "Your oath is fulfilled. A third soul was provided, but I will not work with him."

Daenerys forced herself to watch as Mercer died. It didn't take long. Blood gushed from his neck and the light faded from his eyes. Daenerys heard the sound of bird calling and a brief sensation of pain on the back of her hand. Apparently, the mark would also let her know when a Nightingale died. That could prove useful, but that was something to think about later. The knowledge that the jarl was a skooma addict with Maven in control of her supply changed everything. However, she still had to deal with Karliah.

"You're a cold woman, Karliah. I didn't think you had it in you to torture him that far, but you had the right. He killed your man. He almost killed you." And the information she'd uncovered had been worth it. She couldn't judge Karliah when she had done as much. "Are you going to treat the others that way?"

"No, they'll get a simple choice." Karliah wiped her blade clean on mercer's shirt and sheathed her dagger. "Serve Nocturnal and you or die. At least Delvin, Vex, and Brynjolf will have that choice. I'll let you handle the face-shaper."

"Her name is Galathil. Treat her kindly, but don't let her escape. Just keep her hidden for now with the others. I don't have time to sort her out now. I need to get back before I'm missed." But she couldn't just leave Karliah like that. "Karliah, you did all I could ask and more. You did good. Enjoy your vengeance and get the prisoners hidden away. Get in touch with me, Camilla, or another of my small council tomorrow or the next day. Tonight… will be busy."

.oOo.

When Daenerys returned with Lydia to the Ragged Flagon, she found Sofija and Marcus both waiting for her along with an old man that she didn't know. From the looks on their faces something was wrong. She went straight over to them. "What happened?"

The old man surged forward. "Is it real? Are you truly the Dragonborn?"

Sofija grabbed the old man by the collar of his shirt dragged him back. "You will show respect to Lady Targaryen."

Marcus sighed. "Hemming Black-Briar is here. He came in the back way through the crypt with two dozen guards. He and Harrald Law-Giver are shouting at each other. Aringoth and Nura Snow-Shod are trying to calm them down without much success from the little I heard. As for him." He glanced at the old man. "I'll let Sofija explain."

Sofija had a tight grip on the old man's arm. "His name is Esbern. He claimed to be a Blade and that he knows things about Al-Du-In. I'm inclined to believe him. We found him in an out of the way corner of the Warrens behind a locked door. When we bashed it in, we found him burning documents and saying that the Thalmor would never have them. I saw more books in his room than anywhere outside of the College of Winterhold. However, he's a little off his rocker."

"I'm not," insisted the old man. He had a wheezy way of speaking as if he was constantly short of breath. "I'm the only sane one. Alduin has come, and he brings with him the end of the world. Only a dragonborn... Only you, Lady Targaryen, can stop him and save the world!"

"I know that already," replied Daenerys. "However, it's not ending today. If you have useful information on how to stop it, we can talk about it. Later. Right now, I don't have the time."

"But, you don't understand!" The old man tried to rush forward again, but this time Sofija was alert and kept a firm grip on his arm. "I'm talking about the end of everything."

"Sofija, gag him if you must, but keep him safe. I'll want to talk to him, but I have to deal Hemming and the Riften Guard first."

Sofija thumped her chest in a salute and hauled the old man away by grabbing his ear as a mother might do to a stubborn child.

"Marcus, are the Warrens cleared out?"

"Yes, Lady Targaryen. We were just stalling for you. We're shifting the rest of the prisoners to the next room and starting on the loot as well, but you had best talk with Hemming. He's threatening to throw us all in jail for violating the peace."

"Of course, he is." Daenerys shook his head. "Keep looting. I'll handle Hemming." She marched off through the short passageway to the former guildhall of the Thieves' Guild. The room was crowded now with prisoners divided into two groups on either side of the room and two dozen Riften Guard occupying the center. As she entered the room Hemming Black-Brair and Harrald Law-Giver were loudly arguing. Aringoth, Nura Snow-Shod, and Asgeir Snow-Shod were standing close to them, but they were obviously on the sidelines of the argument.

"I don't care what she says!" said Hemming. "She has no proof! She can't just kill anyone she pleases and take all their possessions because she claims they're thieves. Maybe they just have nowhere else to go."

"They had a lot of gold for people with nowhere else to go!" replied Harrald equally loudly.

Just the fact that Harrald was arguing with Hemming meant that things were going well. As much as he had tried to deny things, Hemming obviously believed the evidence of his own eyes. However, this was a long way from over. Daenerys strode right up to the two angry men. "I hear a lot of yelling going on instead of the gratitude that I expected for taking down the Thieves' Guild. Let's make this simple. The Dragonguard will sit here on the loot and the prisoners. You can leave the Riften Guard to watch them. We can go straight to Jarl Law-Giver and put the case before her. Let her decide. That's where it is going to end up anyway."

Harrald nodded his head in agreement. "That is an excellent suggestion."

Hemming sneered. "No, I'm done coddling her. Lady Targaryen, you are under arrest!"

Daenerys Shouted, " **Iiz**!" **Iiz** meant ice. It was not a blast of cold like **Fo** , Frost. **Iiz** was the cold that settled in around you and made your breath turn to steam and your teeth chatter. **Iiz** was the chill that turned water into ice. **Iiz** turned Hemming Black-Briar into a frozen statue of a man.

The room went silent and all eyes were on her.

"Does anyone else want to try and arrest me?" She waited and none of the Riften Guard made a move to attack. Some even raised their hands into the air making it clear they had no plans to attack her, but most of them just remained where they were.

"Did you kill him?" ask Harrald in a subdued voice.

"No, he is just frozen in place. He'll be fine in just a little bit. If I wanted him dead, he would be dead." That was a lie. The only Shout she had that would have killed him would have been **Yol** - **Toor** - **Shul** and that would have burned and likely killed others as well. She didn't want to escalate that far. At least not yet. "See, his fingers are already starting to wiggle. While he thaws out, we'll need witnesses…" She scanned around to see who was in the chamber. "Aringoth Golden-Glow, Nura Snow-Shod, Asgeir Snow-Shod, and Vignar Grey-Mane, you'll do for a start…" She looked around and spotted Lydia. Her housecarl was so good at following, she was almost her shadow. "Lydia, I'll also need Olfina Grey-Mane, Jon Battle-Born, Mjoll the Lioness, Torvar, Burly Orryn, and Sofija Dragonslayer." As witnesses go, they were very strong. Most of them were nobles or Companions which meant their words were considered truth until proven otherwise. Calling any of them a liar was a good way to get challenged to an honor duel. "Also, inform Marcus that he is in command and is not to release any of the prisoners until I tell him otherwise."

Lydia thumped her chest, "As you wish, my Thane." She hurried off.

Daenerys glanced at Hemming. He was already starting to move a little. He would be fine. She gestured to her mentor. "Faralda, a quick word with you?"

Faralda nodded and stepped away. "You want me to stay behind?" She asked quietly.

Daenerys was glad that Faralda was quick-witted. "Yes, the witnesses I chose were some of my best warriors. Without me present, it will help keep the Riften Guard in line to have you remain. However, that was only part of the reason. We found her, the face sculptor. She's alive and with Karliah. When this settles down, you will have your face restored."

Faralda barely nodded her head. "Thank you."

If Daenerys had not known the reserved elf so well, she would have thought her unmoved, but Faralda was a private person. The only emotion she ever let slip was anger, but that was understandable given that she was a Mistress of Destruction. Daenerys knew just how much this meant to her.

"Ah- Ah- Arrest her," stuttered Hemming Black-Briar.

Daenerys turned back to see Hemming shivering and pointing at her. None of the Riften Guard seemed eager to follow his command. It certainly didn't help that Hemming had only been put in charge of the guard yesterday, but it was telling sign that the Black-Briar power was already crumbling.

"No." Harrald Law-Giver said firmly. "There will be no arrests. We're going to wait for the witnesses Lady Targaryen has called, and then we're all going to talk to the jarl Law-Giver. This has gone too far for too long. We'll let my mother settle this."


	36. Chapter 34

# Chapter 34

Sundas, the 3rd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

The throne room of Mistveil Keep was also the dining hall and intended for feasting. The purpose was to display the wealth of the jarl and bind the nobles of the court together through the sharing of the jarl’s food and drink. The sounds of many people hard at work preparing the feast planned for that evening could be clearly heard from the adjacent kitchen. The smells of the feast also spilled over filling the room with the savory smells of bread cooking and meat roasting. This day the smell of food did not bring them together. The long bare table divided the room into two hostile camps. Daenerys and her witnesses stood on one side while Hemming Black-Briar and the Riften guard stood at the other.

Hemming Black-Briar’s anger was a palpable presence, glaring across the table at her. That hostility did not carry over to the Riften Guard. Some of them looked scared, like they would like to be standing anywhere else. However, most of them had the look of desperate men who expected to do battle but were determined to face it. When she looked at them, their hands strayed to their weapons, yet they stood silent and waited.

Her Dragonguard, in contrast, was quietly confident. She saw predatory smiles mixed among stoic faces. They were alert but disdainful of their potential foes on the other side of the table. Her men had faced and killed a dragon. Even though the Riften Guard present in just this room outnumbered her forces by two to one, her Dragonguard stood ready but unafraid. Daenerys shared their confidence. She knew the quality of her troops and the power of her Thu’um. Not to mention that Barbas was with her. In an open field where the Riften Guard could bring the force of their numbers to bear they could overcome her troops. Here, in this room, if it came down to battle the Dragonguard would win.

However, Daenerys knew that winning this battle by force of arms would lose her the war. She would almost certainly end up on the throne of Riften, but if she seized a throne by force of arms, she would forfeit her position of neutrality. She would become just another jarl and one that couldn’t be trusted. The other jarls would see her as a conqueror queen, a new Tiber Septim, come to unite Skyrim by sword. That would be a disaster. Skyrim would burn in a three-way civil war while the dragons ran amuck. No, the Dragonguard must remain a free and independent force. Only then would she have the freedom to do what was necessary to defeat Al-Du-In and save this world.

A door opened at the far end of the room, and a large Nord warrior entered the room. His head was shaved on both sides of his head leaving an auburn strip standing up in the center of his head. He wore elven armor which was all that Daenerys needed to identify him as Unmid Snow-Shod, the housecarl to Jarl Law-Giver. She was new to Riften, but even she knew the story behind that armor. Unmid had been present on the day that two Thalmor tried to arrest his mother, Nura Snow-Shod, for violating the White-Gold Concordat by worshiping Talos. Unmid had killed both of them. Riften had already been leaning to the Storm-Cloak cause, but that incident pushed Jarl Law-Giver to declare her support for Ulfric. Unmid wore the armor he’d taken from the Thalmor as a statement of his contempt. This was a man she wanted on her side, but his loyalty was to his jarl. Unmid took his place to the left and slightly below the throne, and he calmly met her gaze.

Daenerys gave him a slight nod. She understood Unmid. He was a man of conviction and principles. He stood ready to protect his jarl. If someone dropped the chamber pot, and this turned into a free-for-all, Unmid would do his best to kill her.

Maven Black-Briar followed after Unmid. She looked over the entire room with disdain, and she didn’t spare Hemming any sympathy in her withering glare. She silently took a seat slightly to the right and behind the throne. Maven’s housecarl, Maul, followed behind her like a dark glowering and armored shadow. He took a place standing behind Maven. Following behind Maul, a Bosmer woman with her blonde hair bound up in two ridiculous looking tight buns entered the room. Daenerys knew little about her other than that she was the jarl’s steward, Anuriel. The fact that she sat down farther away from the throne than Maven spoke volumes about their relative importance in the court.

After a slight pause, Jarl Laila Law-Giver entered the room. The jarl was a red-haired woman with a good deal of white in her hair. She may have been beautiful in her younger years, but she hadn’t aged well. She looked underfed, probably because of her addiction to skooma, but that stood out. Poor Nords were sometimes skinny, but Nord nobles tended to overindulge in both food and drink. They ranged between muscular, healthily plump, and fat. Jarl Law-Giver dressed in Nord fashion, full sleeves and heavily embroidered, but at least she had enough sense not to wear furs in the middle of summer. Her face was powdered, and her lips were painted. The cosmetics were well-applied, but visible due to the jarl sweating in the summer heat. Makeup was just not done, not among Nords. Warriors wore face paint. Only whores powdered their faces and painted their lips. Daenerys had seen plenty of older Nord women in the courts of Windhelm and Whiterun and none of them used even the subtle amounts of makeup that would have been commonplace in Westeros, let alone the garish amounts that were common in Essos.

Jarl Law-Giver sat down slowly, clutching the arm of the chair. “Lady Targaryen, Dragonborn.” She spoke with a slight slur as if she had too much to drink. “I was looking forward to your arrival in Riften. You have done a great service for me and the Rift by slaying the dragon, Loknosdov.” She waved a hand in an expansive gesture and then pointed at a finger at Daenerys. “And then you brought an army into my city, insulted my nobles, and threatened my guards. That was bad enough. Now I hear you attacked the captain of my guard. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Daenerys had wondered how the jarl could be addicted to skooma, and yet no one noticed. Seeing her, the answer was obvious – everyone thought she was drunk. Nords drank heavily every day. Some drank wine, but Nords preferred ale and mead. If they were poor, they drank it heavily watered. If they were rich, they often drank as much as they pleased. Being drunk wasn’t a cause for shame among Nords. People would laugh at a drunk playing the fool, but it was friendly laughter. Nords bonded together through shared drunkenness. Nord feasts usually ended with half the revelers falling down drunk, and the rest just sober enough to walk. One of the worst Nord insults was milk-drinker, implying that one was a small child that couldn’t even handle the watered-down ale that teenagers were allowed. Nords greatly admired those who could be drunk and still function. They would have loved Robert Baratheon. They sometimes went into battle drunk. For that matter half the mercenaries she just hired from the Forgotten Hole had been at least a little drunk. Burly Orryn more than the others.

Daenerys set that revelation aside for now. It would make exposing the jarl’s addiction harder, but she had to address the jarl’s question. She pretended a nonchalance she didn’t quite feel and shrugged. “I would like to start by reminding you that you insisted that I bring the Dragonguard to Riften. You even sent an escort of one hundred men to ensure that I arrive safely. Lady Black-Briar extended the invitation for us to enter Riften proper on your behalf. Everything the Dragonguard has done since arriving has benefited both Riften and yourself, Jarl Law-Giver. We uncovered Grelod the Cruel abusing the children of Honorhall Orphanage, killed a Dark Brotherhood assassin hiding within the city walls, shut down three skooma dens, and brought an illegal arena to light. Rather than arrest them, your son, Harrald, convinced them to accept their fines, approach you, and become a licensed tax-paying establishment. Just this afternoon we raided the Thieves’ Guild. This time the thieves didn’t escape. They’re all bound and waiting to be handed over to your justice. Do you find anything wrong with our actions?”

Jarl Law-Giver frowned. “I have no issues with the accomplishments, but I do have issues with your methods and with your attack on Hemming Black-Briar. He is the Captain of my guard.”

Daenerys shook her head. “I will not apologize for my actions against Hemming Black-Briar. The man has a personal grudge against me. Three times he has abused his position to threaten me. First, upon the road to Riften, he insisted the Dragonguard accompany him immediately to Riften. Second, when the Dragonguard killed an assassin who tried to kill me. He called the Dragonguard murderers for defending me! Third, today. I offered to come here and bring the issue before you. He attempted to arrest me. He wanted to bring me here in chains for the crime of destroying the Thieves’ Guild. I understand that as Captain of your guard he cannot be challenged, but the man is a coward who hides behind others and a fool.” Daenerys kept her focus on Jarl Law-Giver and didn’t even look at the man.

Jarl Law-Giver looked confused. “I see… What of the people who died in your attack? What proof do you have that any of them are thieves at all?”

Daenerys smiled. “Allow me to introduce my Shield-Brother, Torvar, a Companion of Jorrvaskr. His many deeds include slaying trolls, giants, and clearing out the bandits that infested Valtheim Towers. He is one of the few men now alive who has faced two dragons in combat and lived to tell about it. I’m proud to call him Shield-Brother. Torvar arrived in Riften the same day as Vignar Grey-Mane, but he entered the city alone. I’ll let him tell his story.”

Torvar strode forward with a huge grin on his face. The deeds she claimed of him were all true, but he hadn’t fought alone. The Companions had still considered him a new blood, this would add to his story, his legend. He gave a slight bow to the throne. “Jarl Law-Giver, I will be glad to explain to you and your court. Although some here should know already.”

Jarl Law-Giver frowned. “Please, explain.”

“I had just entered the gates when I ran into Maul over there. He apparently didn’t like my looks, so he made a point to explain to me how things worked in Riften. He told me that I needed to stay out of the Black-Briar’s business because Maven had ties to the Thieves’ Guild and the Dark Brotherhood-”

“Lies!” shouted Maven Black-Briar. “Maul is my housecarl. He is never out of my shadow.”

Maul himself didn’t move, but he was scowling.

Torvar stood there unphased, but Daenerys had spoken with him when she sent him to infiltrate the Thieves’ Guild. She had chosen Torvar because he was a Companion.

“I am a Companion of Jorrvaskr,” declared Daenerys. “Torvar is my Shield-Brother. His word is good.”

Vignar Grey-Mane spoke up. “I am a Companion of Jorrvaskr. Torvar is my Shield-Brother. His word is good.”

Maven scowled but didn’t back down. “And I still say he is a liar.”

“I call challenge upon you, Maven Black-Briar,” said Torvar. “Face me in battle or name your champion.”

Maven smiled. “As it is Maul that you are slandering, he will face you in battle.”

Maul grinned at that. “It will be a pleasure. I bet Companion blood is still red.” He strode forward and drew two daggers as he approached.

Daenerys frowned at how ready Maul was to fight. While Nords might challenge each other to a fistfight in a tavern, fights among nobles over honor usually had more build-up. There was more discussion about where, when, and who would officiate. That was a large part of the reason there was doubt over Ulfric’s duel with High King Torygg. It hadn’t been conducted in public before man and the gods. More importantly, Maven was smiling. She obviously thought Maul could win.

Torvar unslung his shield from his back and secured it to his left arm. He grabbed his axe with his right hand and stepped forward to meet him. “You even fight with a thief’s weapons. My shield-brother Athis is always trying to convince me that small quick blades are better. Never worked for him. Let’s see if you fare any better.”

The Dragonguard enthusiastically chanted Torvar’s name. The cheering for Maul was much less excited, but some of the Riften Guards cheered him on.

Maul didn’t waste time talking. He darted forward and lashed out with his left hand. Torvar interposed his shield. Daenerys felt a small burst of magic, noticeable only because there was no other active magic in the room. Maul’s blade was enchanted, but what it did she couldn’t say. Torvar circled as Maul tried to come around his shield. Torvar blocked another strike. Daenerys felt the same burst of magic, and as Torvar continued circling she saw the result. There was a patch of white frost of Torvar’s shield. The dagger was enchanted for frost damage, and it was a potent enchantment if two blows could leave a patch of frost on a shield. Maul attacked again striking Torvar’s shield. This time she saw a spark as the other dagger struck. It was enchanted for shock. Torvar’s shield was steel, so it offered little protection against lightning. Maul’s strategy was clear. He was going to let the enchantments weaken Torvar until he couldn’t block any longer.

Maul came in for another attack. He was laughing now. He struck for the shield again, but as he did Torvar surged forward slamming Maul bodily with his shield and briefly staggering him. Torvar finally struck his first blow, but it was a good one. Maul tried to parry it, but lost some of his fingers and the shock enchanted dagger. Maul ignored the loss and struck out at Torvar in a series of quick slashes with the dagger. Torvar blocked every one of them, the shield quickly building up a sheet of ice.

Torvar laughed. “I’m a true Nord. Do you think a little bit of cold will bother me? Now it is my shield and my axe against your puny dagger. I think the magic is already fading.”

Maul stepped forward trying to get around Torvar’s shield. He lunged to the left, to the right, but every time he was met by Torvar’s shield. With each blow Torvar grimaced in pain, but he kept blocking while Maul had to dance in and out rapidly to avoid Torvar’s axe. As it progressed the fight became less a battle of skill than endurance. The frost enchanted dagger clearly was affecting Torvar, but Maul was slowing as well. Both men exchanged blows that were turned by armor.

The end came suddenly. Maul tried to dance away but was too slow. Torvar buried his axe into Maul’s neck. Blood flew. Maul collapsed to the floor clutching the wound as blood continued to pump from the wound.

Daenerys stepped forward and immediately healed Torvar. “Easy Shield-Brother. Well fought.”

Torvar chuckled as she healed him. “All those times back at Jorrvaskr where I called Athis a damn fool for loving his daggers. I owe my life to him now. I knew just how to fight the bastard.”

“I’m sure he’ll never let you forget it either,” Daenerys said as she pulled Torvar back onto his feet.

“No, he won’t,” agreed Torvar.

Everything was on a brief pause. Servants had been called forth to handle the cleanup after the battle. Maul’s corpse was hauled away. The servants poured sawdust on the floor to soak up the blood and swept it away. Daenerys studied Maven as she had a whispered conversation with Jarl Law-Giver. If Maul had won that fight, that would have proved that Torvar was lying. Now by right of combat, it was proven that Torvar had spoken the truth about Maul. Maven should be in hot water, but Jarl Law-Giver was nodding her head. Jarl Law-Giver called her steward, Anuriel, over. After a whispered conversation among the three of them, Anuriel left with two guards and Maven returned to her seat.

Jarl Law-Giver raised a hand. “Lady Targaryen, Torvar the Companion, let me assure you that I acknowledge the outcome of that duel as does Lady Black-Briar. Please be patient. We’ll resume shortly.”

“Very well, Jarl Law-Giver.” Daenerys was curious as to what was going on. Maven looked less angry now than she had before the battle. However, she couldn’t very well argue with a reasonable request.

A short time later the jarl’s steward returned along with the two Riften guards. There was a short whispered conversation among them, and the steward handed over a book to the jarl. More whispers followed. The jarl nodded as if agreeing, but in the end Maven bowed her head to the jarl. Everyone returned to their seats.

Jarl Law-Giver once again raised her hand. “Based on the outcome of that duel, I had Maul’s room searched. We found evidence that corroborates everything Torvar the Companion said. Lady Black-Briar would like to say a few words.”

Maven stood up. “Lady Targaryen and Torvar the Companion, I would like to apologize to both of you for not believing you and accusing Torvar the Companion of lying. Maul has been my housecarl for more than a decade. I trusted him in everything. He watched over me while I slept. I never knew he was conspiring with the Thieves’ Guild behind my back. This explains why there are so many persistent rumors that I and my family are involved with the Thieves’ Guild. Maul was secretly one of them all along. I also believe he led my son Sibbi astray. My son is currently in the Riften jail for crimes he committed. Now that I know about Maul, I hope to be able to save my son as well.”

“It’s fine,” slurred the jarl. “You were fooled by a man you trusted, and your son is a bit foolish himself.”

Daenerys forced herself to remain calm as the pieces slid into place. Maven hadn’t been taking a risk at all having Maul fight Torvar. If he won, then Torvar was proved a liar. When he died, she shifted all the blame over to him. No doubt that book they were looking at earlier held evidence that incriminated Maul and ‘proved’ Maven innocent. There was no way that Maven created that in a few minutes. Maven had planned this in advance. She dipped her head to Maven, acknowledging a move well-played, let others think it was acceptance. “You were deceived by a thief, Lady Black-Briar. That’s what thieves do. We had even more evidence to present against Maul. His brother, Dirge, was and still is a member of the Thieves’ Guild. I accept your apology in the spirit it is given.”

Torvar followed her example. “I also accept your apology, Lady Black-Briar. It is a rare woman who can own her mistakes.”

Maven laughed. “I didn’t know you were married, Torvar the Companion.”

The entire room laughed at Maven’s wit. Torvar included. “I’m not yet and have no intention of settling down. If that was an offer, you’re a little too rich for my blood.”

Maven touched a hand to her chest. “Oh, you wound me. If I still had the beauty of my youth, I promise you that you would think differently. While that wasn’t an offer of marriage, but I do find myself in need of a housecarl. I need an honest man to separate myself from the stench of that was Maul’s betrayal and alliance with the Thieves’ Guild. It pays very well.”

Torvar shook his head. “No, I’m a Companion. I’ve promised to fight by my Shield-Sister’s side. There are still dragons to slay.”

“Very well,” agreed Maven. “Mjoll the Lioness, have you also joined the Dragonguard? You have long railed against the evil that is the Thieves’ Guild, one that I never saw because it was always two steps behind me. What do you say about being my housecarl? I need an honest and loyal housecarl. With you by my side we can clean out any remnants that the Dragonguard’s strike missed.”

“I’ll have to think about that,” came Mjoll’s voice from behind Daenerys. “It comes as a surprise.”

“Please do.” Maven turned to the jarl. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

Daenerys knew that was a lie. Maven had just played the entire room. Even knowing what was happening Daenerys had been crushed by Maven’s momentum and unable to stop her as she played the part of the betrayed woman. Daenerys still had two arrows in her quiver: Maven’s hiring of the Dark Brotherhood and her poisoning of the jarl with skooma. However, Maven was slippery and she lacked proof to back up an accusation. She had to be careful or Maven would just dance away clean again.

“No, that’s fine,” said Jarl Law-Giver. “I would like to say that I find the idea of Mjoll the Lioness as your housecarl to be a good one. It would firmly establish that Clan Black-Briar was as much a victim of the Thieves’ Guild as Riften.” She paused for a long moment before she continued. “And that brings us back to the Dragonguard and your actions Lady Targaryen. Riften owes you a debt, but some of your actions were questionable. First, and most importantly you owe an apology to Hemming Black-Briar. His actions were hasty, but he acted out of a desire to uphold the law. Your attack on the Thieves’ Guild was not condoned and resulted in the deaths of several Riften citizens. I would like you two to put aside the bad blood between you.”

Daenerys gave the jarl a slight dip of her head. “Of course.” It irritated her to apologize. The trial by combat did nothing to clear Hemming of his insults. This was the reason that the grievances were usually clearly articulated for both sides. That hadn’t happened for this duel. However, the Black-Briars had lost and the Dragonguard had won. Continuing to hold a grudge would just make her look petty. She turned to face Hemming. “I took what actions I deemed necessary to prevent a violent altercation, but I will accept the ruling of Jarl Law-Giver. I overstepped. I offer my apologies to you Hemming Black-Briar and to Clan Black-Briar.” The words tasted like ashes, but overall she had still won today.

Hemming nodded. “Very well, Lady Targaryen. I accept your apology for your hasty and foolish action of attacking the Captain of the Guard and representative of the jarl of Riften. I can overlook it this once.”

Daenerys ignored the slight. Hemming’s petty backslap of an apology just made it obvious that he was a spoiled brat given too much power. Hemming was a pawn. It was Maven that was the danger.

Jarl Law-Giver clapped her hands. “Yes, yes. Now, I have decided what to do. Lady Targaryen, your attack on the Thieves’ Guild was well done, but it should have been done in cooperation with the Riften Guard. I do award you the spoils of battle, but you will have to pay weregild for each citizen who died who was not a thief. I trust your honor and that of Torvar the Companion not to lie about who the thieves were. To be fair to you, the total cost of weregild shall not exceed the spoils you obtained today. Do you have any objections?”

“I understand and accept your decision, Jarl Law-Giver.” The jarl had effectively seized all the spoils of the battle for the deaths of beggars and homeless people. Those would normally be written off, but Daenerys didn’t care to fight it. Karliah had already robbed Black-Briar Manor and emptied Mercer Frey’s home. While the Dragonguard had looted and some stolen goods and gold from the vault of the Thieves’ Guild, the real treasure had been capturing the senior officers of the Thieves’ Guild.

“Good. Good.” Jarl Law-Giver paused again and glanced down at a scrap of parchment. “Ah yes, one more thing. I had already planned to reward you for your defeat of the dragon Loknosdov. The estate of Ivarstead has been held by the jarls of Riften since the Great War. I wish to offer you the position of Lady Ivarstead.”

An estate was about the greatest gift a jarl could bestow. It made the jarl appropriating the spoils from the Theives’ Guild small in comparison. However, accepting would make her a landed noble in the court of Riften and would require swearing fealty to Jarl Law-Giver. That was not an option. Daenerys gave a deep curtsey. “I thank you for the honor, Jarl Law-Giver, but I lead the Dragonguard. In this time of civil war, it is still important that someone stands against the dragons. I and the Dragonguard must remain neutral.”

Jarl Law-Giver nodded. “Maven Black-Briar predicted you would say as much. Very well, at tonight’s feast I will name you an honor thane of the Rift. I have more that I would like to ask you. I want to hear your deeds, but that will have to wait until the feast tonight. Go, get ready. Tonight, Riften celebrates your many victories.”


	37. Chapter 35

# Chapter 35

Sundas, the 3rd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys felt adrift after being dismissed by Jarl Law-Giver. Maven’s ploy with Maul had completely altered the political battlefield. Maven had then seized her advantage and run with it. Daenerys knew the war between her and the Black-Briars wasn’t over. Maven was the type to hold grudges, and Daenerys had committed herself already. She wanted to strike back soon and decisively. That the jarl’s medicine was skooma provided by Maven should be enough, but all she had was the word of Mercer Frey. Maven would likely slither away from a mere accusation. Either Harrald or Saerlund Law-Giver could probably get her proof, but it might be best to wait until after the feast. She would be riding the wave of popularity from being named Thane of the Rift then. She would likely be invited back to the family quarters for conversation and more drinking after the feast. That would probably be the best time to act, but Maven would also be present. Regardless, that was hours away. First, she had to deal with the jarl’s steward, Anuriel.

“Lady Targaryen, I need to know how many you intend to bring to the feast tonight.” Her tone was apologetic and tactful instead of demanding. “You are the guest of honor, but you have seen the size of our table. We can sit thirty comfortably which is normally more than enough, but you have a large entourage. We can’t possibly accommodate them all.”

Daenerys nodded in understanding. Jarl Balgruuf’s hall could sit at least sixty. Ulfric Stormcloak’s hall was even larger, it could probably seat a hundred. Thirty seats were probably more than enough for Riften most of the time. “My party would include myself, Jon Battle-Born, Vignar Grey-Mane, Olfina Grey-Mane, Torvar the Companion, Sofija Ēlī Vokēdrie, Faralda Mistress of Destruction at the College of Winterhold, and Mjoll the Lioness. My housecarl, Lydia, will attend as well, but she’ll be standing behind me.”

“Of course,” agreed Anuriel. “So, seven then. We can accommodate you. I was expecting much more.”

Daenerys shrugged. “I’m not counting the Snow-Shods or Aringoth Golden-Glow as part of my entourage.” As it should be. They were landed nobles of the Rift. A place at the jarl’s table was their due.

“Yes, yes. I already planned for them to attend, and Jarl Law-Giver has extended Mjoll the Lioness a standing invitation to attend whenever she pleases, so she would be welcome anyway.”

Asgeir Snow-Shod spoke up. “The Snow-Shods will also be making an announcement at this feast, and there has not been an opportunity to inform Jarl Law-Giver yet. Please inform her that my father is stepping down as leader of Clan Snow-Shod. Going forward I will lead us.”

Daenerys kept her face impassive. No doubt Maven would know about this shortly. She would have preferred to keep the Black-Briars in the dark for a little longer, but she couldn’t blame Asgeir. They were vassals to the Law-Givers and as such owed the jarl an explanation before making a public announcement.

For a steward and a politician, Anuriel did not conceal her surprise very well. “That is very unexpected. I trust that Vulwulf is well?”

“He is,” agreed Asgeir Snow-Shod. “In fact, I believe he is happier than he has been in months. He and my mother have decided to join the Dragonguard.”

“Ah, that explains your alliance with the Dragonguard to assault the Thieves’ Guild. I’ll be sure to let Jarl Law-Giver know. Please arrive before the feast. I’m sure the jarl would like a few words together with the Snow-Shods in private.”

“We will present ourselves as soon as we arrive, but my mother and I have been tramping through the sewers. We need time to bathe and have our armor cleaned before we’re presentable at the jarl’s table.”

“Yes, please.” She wrinkled her nose and waved a hand, but she did it with a laugh and a smile. “I’m sure Jarl Law-Giver will appreciate that. I know I will.” She turned to Daenerys. “And is there anything else you need, Lady Targaryen?”

“I need lots of hot bathwater brought to my suite. I don’t suppose you know if the dresses that I ordered from Gold & Needle for myself and Sofija Ēlī Vokēdrie have arrived yet?”

“Yes, a delivery from Gold & Needle arrived earlier. It should be in your room. I am aware of your predilection to long hot baths, Lady Targaryen. I had the servants start boiling water when you arrived.” Anuriel was a bit smug about it. “Your bath should be ready and waiting for you by now. If there is nothing else, I’ll see you at the feast.”

“Thank you, that will be all.”

Once Anuriel had departed Asgeir Snow-Shod spoke up. “If you don’t mind, Lady Targaryen, my mother and I should be going. We need to retrieve our men, catch my father up, and get ready for the feast.”

Daenerys paused for a moment to consider. It was tempting to put everything aside until after she had a hot bath, but she still had no plan about how to expose the jarl’s skooma addition. The Snow-Shods might be able to help her obtain the proof she needed. “Come with me to my suites first. There is something that I recently learned that you must know.”

“Very well,” agreed Asgeir.

“It won’t be long. I’m looking forward to that hot bath that Anuriel promised.” When they arrived at her assigned suite, Daenerys found the door unlocked and the rooms empty. The few belongings that had been left behind were untouched, but her handmaiden Raina was nowhere to be seen. She had given Raina specific orders not to open the door, not to leave the room, not even just to empty the chamber pot, but Raina was gone. Daenerys checked the door. It was undamaged, but it only had a lock, not a crossbar. Anyone with a key could have easily opened it. She briefly considered the possibility that Raina had disobeyed her, and left the room on her own power, but it didn’t fit. Not because she was lame in one foot. She could still hobble about. However, the red-headed teenager was a horrible seamstress, and still learning how to be a good handmaiden, but she was fiercely loyal. She also wasn’t stupid. Raina knew that she had been told to stay inside for her own safety. There was no way she had wandered off.

No, someone had taken Raina. Almost certainly, it had been done on the orders of Maven Black-Briar. This was her fault. She had left Raina alone so she could take every fighting man she had to assault the Thieves’ Guild. Maybe she had underestimated the risk because guest right was practically sacred in Westeros, and almost as revered in Essos. However, that was a poor excuse, and excuses wouldn’t bring Raina back. Her handmaiden was paying the price because she had left her unprotected.

“Barbas! Raina is missing. Can you find her?”

<I’ll try>, barked Barbas. He went over and took a whiff of some folded-up blankets and then began circling the room, sometimes sniffing along the floor, sometimes raising his head, and smelling the air.

“Someday,” muttered Burly Orryn. “I have got to hear the story about that dog.”

Daenerys watched Barbas as she remembered Raina. She survived an ordeal that would break most women, but instead of being meek, she was fiercely defiant. She had chosen to stay with the Dragonguard and was determined to become a good handmaiden. She remembered Raina’s pride at the awful black and red livery dress that she had created for herself. Daenerys had politely lied to her and told her that it still needed a little more work. Raina probably knew a lot of her secrets. While Raina left the tent during small council meetings, as the Dragonborn’s handmaiden she was always close at hand. The thought of Maven Black-Briar learning that she made deals with Nocturnal and Clavicus Vile should have worried her. Maven could do a lot of damage with that knowledge. However, it was the thought of Raina being tortured for her loyalty that kept playing through her mind. Raina was stubborn and loyal. She wouldn’t break easily. She was probably being tortured right now, the same way that Karliah had tortured Mercer Frey.

Twice Barbas walked out to the corridor only to turn back in. <She didn’t go out the door, and her scent is all over the room. There is nothing to track.>

“A secret passage then?”

<Most likely,> agreed Barbas.

“Check the hallways then. If the hidden door opens to an adjacent room, then she might have been moved through the hallways.”

<Someone scrubbed the hallways, but I’ll try.>

“I take it this Raina is an important person,” whispered Mjoll the Lioness from behind her back.

“She was just the Dragonborn’s handmaiden,” replied Olfina Grey-Mane in an equally low whisper. “Raina was no one special, but Lady Targaryen is like that. She cares about her people. All of them.”

Daenerys only heard the conversation because of her werewolf senses and chose to remain silent. She had always cared for her own people. There was nothing particularly impressive about caring for your own. In a way she was a hypocrite. She encouraged Karliah to torture Mercer Frey after all. Raina had been a guest and was owed protection. That did make things different, but did that really make her right and Maven wrong? Yes. No. It didn’t matter. Maven had taken one of hers.

Barbas came running back. <I couldn’t smell her. I did promise to protect your Dragonguard, but I have limits.>

Daenerys reached down and scratched Barbas. “You did what you could.”

She continued scratching Barbas while she considered her options. Have Barbas search? Wait until she had Maven over the barrel? Try to get more proof? She couldn’t see any of those ending with Raina back, but she had to try. An anger burned into her belly and firmed into a decision. She needed to stop playing Maven’s game and force Maven to play hers. She took Barbas’ head in her hands and looked deep into his brown eyes. “Barbas, I want you to find her. Search Mistveil Keep. Search the streets. She didn’t just vanish. She’s somewhere in Riften.”

<I’ll look for her, but it’s a big city.> barked Barbas.

She rose. “Jon and Olfina, I need you to go with him. Let him lead, but if anyone objects say he’s your dog and cover for him. If he finds Raina and you can grab her, go for it, but this is primarily a scouting mission.”

Jon looked at Barbas. “He’s in charge? How far can we trust him considering what he is?”

“We have a deal. I trust him.” Perhaps she trusted him too much, but Barbas had never let her down. He was probably her best hope for getting Raina back. “I want her found.”

“We’re on it,” declared Olfina. She grabbed Jon by the arm and looked to Barbas. “So… lead the way.”

Barbas barked and took off down the hallway. Jon and Olfina followed him.

Daenerys was tempted to wish them luck, but she wasn’t counting on luck. “Everyone else, follow me into my suite. Now.” Daenerys stepped inside and into the middle of the sitting room.

She considered who she had with her. There were quite a mixed group: two Companions, Vignar Grey-Mane and Torvar, Aringoth Golden-Glow, Nura and Asgeir Snow-Shod, Mjoll the Lioness, Burly Orryn and her two housecarls Sofija and Lydia. “Do any of you believe that Maven Black-Briar was truly innocent?”

Several of them said, “No.” A few just snorted their disbelief. Only Asgeir and Mjoll looked at all doubtful.

“I have trouble believing she is innocent,” said Mjoll. “However, the matter has been settled by trial by combat.”

“Oh yes, it’s settled,” agreed Vignar sarcastically. “And Maul is dead, so he can’t very well complain.”

“True,” agreed Daenerys. “However, despite what Maven implied, it didn’t prove her innocence. The combat just proved that Maul was guilty. Furthermore, I have recently learned that Maven is guilty of even worse than conspiring with the Thieves’ Guild. How many of you know that Jarl Law-Giver has been ill?”

“I knew,” said Nura Snow-Shod. “I’ve cured her before, but whatever her illness it’s resistant to being cured.”

Burly Orryn made a growling noise. “Let me guess where this is going. It’s resistant because Maven Black-Briar has been poisoning our jarl!”

“Keep it down, Burly, but you’re right. It’s poison, of a sort. Maven has addicted the jarl to skooma and is supplying it to her disguised as her ‘medicine’.”

“You can’t be serious.” “Skeever Scat!” “That bitch!”

“Skooma, I should have known,” said Nura Snow-Shod. “She had the signs.”

Daenerys focused on Nura. “What signs?”

“Loss of appetite. Mood swings, sometimes excited and full of energy, at other times lethargic. Dilated pupils. Inability to focus. Problems with digestion.” She shook her head ruefully. “The eyes, pupils as wide as nighttime even in daylight. Skooma isn’t the only thing that causes that, but…” She shook her head. “Not to mention the resistance to healing. If you catch a skooma addict early, healing can work, but once the habit is established, they always go crawling back for more no matter how often you heal them.”

“Lady Targaryen, if you knew this, why didn’t you bring it up in front of the jarl?” asked Asgeir.

“Because, I don’t have proof.” The word of Nura Snow-Shod would help, but it still wasn’t proof. “You all saw how Maven slipped away from the fall of the Thieves’ Guild. She didn’t even get mud on her skirts. I was going to wait until I had been made Thane of the Rift and try to get proof, but they took Raina. I am done playing Maven’s game. My new plan is to go to the jarl’s private suite. She and her sons will be getting ready for the feast tonight. Maven and others may also be present, but we confront them all right there. We don’t give Maven time to come up with another plan or slither away.”

“Bold. I like it,” said Mjoll.

Most of the others agreed with her, but Aringoth questioned, “And what if they won’t admit us?”

“My handmaiden has been kidnapped. That’s a breach of hospitality. I won’t let them deny me.”

Nura Snow-Shod dipped her head. “You’re the Dragonborn. If you’re certain this is the right thing, then all of us are with you.”

There was a chorus of support and agreement.

“Thank you, thank you all, but you won’t all be coming. Lydia and Burly Orryn, I need you two to go and get the Dragonguard. Tell Marcus to assemble them at the foot of the stairs to Mistveil Keep and be ready to attack.”

“Fuck me,” said Burly Orryn. “you’re going to war over a maid?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m not going to war.” At least hopefully not. “I want the Dragonguard there to send a message and in case everything goes to Oblivion.” She looked to Lydia. “Make sure Marcus knows that.”

Lydia thumped her chest. “I hear and obey, my thane.” She stood up and walked to the door.

Burly Orryn shook his head and followed Lydia. As he walked away, he could still be heard talking to Lydia. “I think your boss is mad, but gods what a woman!”

Daenerys shook her head at Burly’s inability to be subtle. She glanced at the seven people she still had with her. “I am not going to war with Riften,” she repeated. At least, not yet. “That was just a backup plan.” It wasn’t even a good back-up plan. The Dragonguard might be able to take Mistveil Keep. Much of the Riften Guards were deployed along the walls and scattered around Riften. A frontal assault could take the keep before reinforcements arrived, but too many things could go wrong. Even if everything went right, the fallout would hurt her politically. “It’s also a warning. I will not stand aside and do nothing when one of my own is taken. A leader that won’t fight for her people is not a leader worth following.”

There was another chorus of agreement from everyone to that sentiment.

“Let’s go. It’s time for me to have a talk with Jarl Law-Giver and her family.”

.oOo.

While her plan was rough there was more to it than just talking. In any fortress most of the guards were aimed outward to repel invaders. Competent leaders posted men inside as well at choke points, but when a fortress was also the seat of government where people lived and worked, all sorts of people wandered about. Daenerys only had to pass two guard stations to reach the jarl.

The first guard station was simply two men guarding the door. One of them stepped aside immediately when she asked politely. The other tried to follow procedure, send a messenger, and wait for her to be allowed entrance. Daenerys threatened to have him transferred to the Dragonguard where she would use him as dragon bait. He quickly stepped aside and let them pass.

That gave them access to the private hallways and rooms set aside for the jarl, her family, and servants. They passed a couple of maids and a boy rushing about, but the servants just pressed themselves up against the wall to let them pass. The jarl’s actual suite of rooms was easy to find. It was the one with two more guards standing outside it.

One was tall, blond, young, and huge. The other man was brown of hair with a bit of grey. He had a broken nose and watched their approach with a suspicious gaze. Both of them moved their hands to their weapons. Clearly these two men were of much better quality than the others that she had blustered her way past.

The older man called out in a stern voice. “Halt. Lady Targaryen, we were not told to expect you.”

“Because this was not planned. I need to speak to Jarl Law-Giver immediately.”

The guards glanced at each other. The blond guard nodded. “I can convey a message, but I do not know if she will see you. Why do you need to speak with the jarl?”

“Because I and my party were accepted as guests in Mistveil Keep, but one of my servants was taken from my rooms. I want to know how this happened and what the jarl is going to do about it.”

“Lady Targaryen,” asked the older one politely. “Are you certain? Perhaps he just went for a walk while you were gone?”

“She,” said Daenerys. “Is lame. She didn’t go for a walk. Of that, I’m certain.”

The guard dipped his head. “I’m sorry, Lady Targaryen. That does make it unlikely that she is just exploring the keep. Have you informed the Captain of the Guard yet?”

Daenerys scoffed at the idea. “Hemming Black-Briar? He is one of my chief suspects. The man has gone out of his way to antagonize me time and again. I wouldn’t trust him if he said winter was cold.”

“I see. Very well, I’ll have Kjen convey your message, but the jarl is getting ready for the feast. You may have to wait a little while.”

Daenerys gave him a nod. “Understandable. I would be willing to speak with either of her sons if that helps. Or perhaps Lady Black-Briar.”

“Lady Black-Briar is in her own chambers getting ready for the feast, but Kjen can convey your message to the jarl and her sons.”

The tall blonde nodded. “Aye.” He opened the door just far enough for himself and slipped through.

Daenerys watched him leave with a feeling of anticipation. If she could get to the jarl and her sons without Maven Black-Briar around to influence things, this might turn out even better than she hoped.

The older man side-stepped to stand in the center of the doorway. “Lady Targaryen, even if Jarl Law-Giver does agree to see you, I cannot admit your entire party.”

“I understand.” She did. The guards were responsible for protecting Jarl Law-Giver from assassins. Restricting her party was rather pointless since she could Shout, but he was just doing his duty. “Would I be allowed to bring Nura Snow-Shod, Vignar Grey-Mane, and my housecarl with me?”

“Just Lady Snow-Shod and Vignar Grey-Mane, my lady.”

Daenerys was about to agree when the door opened.

Kjen emerged. “Jarl Law-Giver is in her chambers, but Harrald and Saerlund Law-Giver have both consented to speak with you.”

“Thank you.” Daenerys gave them both an approving nod and walked on in.

The next chamber was sitting room for family and guests. The room was obviously designed for impressing guests. The furniture was expensive and ornate. An elaborately woven rug covered most of the floor. The unlit fireplace was made of marble rather than the rough stone of the rest of the keep. There was also a throne, not as elaborate as in the dining hall, but it was larger, more ornate, and had more cushions than the other chairs, so it was obviously meant for the jarl. Yet, the room also showed a woman’s touch. The ornate chairs were all cushioned for comfort. There was a distinct lack of the stuffed animal heads that were so commonly used by Nords for decorating. Instead, live plants growing in pots were scattered around the edges of the room. The chairs were paired up around small tables allowing guests to have cozy conversations, or to all face the throne.

Currently, the throne was empty, but there were three men present. The Jarl’s housecarl, Unmid Snow-Shod, stood guard over a door directly behind the throne. He stood as still as a statue, but Daenerys had no doubt that he would explode into action if someone tried to force the door to the jarl’s bedroom. The other two men were Harrald and Saerlund Law-Giver. The two brothers stood flanking the throne with Harrald to the right of the throne and Saerlund to the Ieft. This was the first time she saw Harrald and Saerlund together. While their personalities were quite different, they were clearly brothers. Their kinship was obvious by the shape of their chin, their overall build, and especially their eyes. They had the same eyes, but not their mothers. It occurred to Daenerys that she didn’t even know the name of Laila Law-Giver’s husband or how he died. It wouldn’t surprise her to learn that Maven Black-Briar was somehow responsible, but they were old enough he might simply have died in the Great War. Harrald was still wearing his armor, but he had never left the guildhall of the Thieves’ Guild or waded through the sewers. He probably didn’t need to change for the feast. Saerlund was wearing a different outfit from when she met him in the library, but it was just a variation on the current fashion in different colors and embroidery. Despite the heat he was wearing a bearskin mantel with it.

Daenerys advanced to stand in the middle of the room facing the brothers and the empty throne. Vignar moved to her right and Nura to her left. “Harrald, Saerlund, thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”

“Kjen said that it was urgent,” said Harrald. “One of your followers is missing?”

“Raina, my handmaiden,” agreed Daenerys. “She was kidnapped from my assigned suite while we were under Law-Giver hospitality. She did not wander off. First, because she is lame. Second, because I ordered her to stay in my suites for her own safety.”

“You distrusted her safety?” asked Harrald.

“Was I wrong?” demanded Daenerys.

“Lady Targaryen.” Saerlund spoke her name calmly. “I understand you are upset and rightfully so. If you will give us a description, we will set our guards to searching for us. Would that suffice?”

“No,” replied Daenerys. “Because my primary suspect is Maven Black-Briar and her son is in charge of the Riften Guard.” She held up a hand to stop Harrald before he could talk. “I have proof that Maven has committed treason against your family.”

From where she was standing Daenerys could see Unmid Snow-Shod’s hand jerk upward as if he was going to draw that big two-handed sword off his back, but he deliberately lowered his hand. His eyes focused on her, and he was clearly absorbing every word.

“Treason?” asked Harrald as he threw his hands up in the air. “You were wrong about Maven. That was proved earlier. Maul was the one who was working with the Thieves’ Guild behind Aunt Maven’s back. He probably forged that letter about the Dark Brotherhood.”

Daenerys looked at Saerlund. “Do you believe Maven is innocent?”

Saerlund gave a barely perceptible shrug. “She’s far from innocent, but she produced plenty of evidence that Maul was guilty. It’s a pity that he’s dead, but it is also very convenient for Maven, don’t you think? That happens a lot to Maven’s enemies.”

Harrald shook his finger. “See, if Saerlund believes it, then it must be wrong.”

“I think you do your brother a disservice, Harrald Law-Giver. He sees deeper than you do. It’s no wonder he is bitter when his insights are ignored. You were wrong about the Thieves’ Guild. Would it hurt you to listen to what I have to say instead of dismissing me in advance?”

“I suppose not.” Harrald reluctantly agreed as if it hurt him to be reasonable.

Saerlund sighed. “As much as it pains me to agree with my brother’s skepticism, I’ll need proof as well. While ‘Aunt’ Maven is underhanded and does take advantage of her close relationship to my mother, she supports our family. She is also a close personal friend of Mother’s. I already told you that Maven found the medicine that cured her.”

“The medicine isn’t a cure.” Daenerys spoke slowly, but with force. “It’s poison. Skooma to be specific.”

“Skooma?” Harrald laughed. “My mother is not a skooma addict.”

Saerlund froze as Harrald laughed, but after a moment his face flushed with anger, and he clenched his fists. “Skooma! Of course, how could I be so blind! She took it right in front of us the whole time. The way she would shudder after a dose. I thought it was relief from the pain. I’m going to kill Maven. I’m going to wring Auntie Maven’s scrawny neck.”

“Saerlund, you don’t really believe her,” asked Harrald. “Our mother a skooma addict? That’s not possible. We would know. Wouldn’t we?”

“Obviously, we didn’t. We were young when her ‘illness’ struck. We didn’t question. Oblivion, I feel so stupid.”

Nura Snow-Shod took a half-step forward. “You weren’t stupid. You were deceived. I’m a trained healer. I’ve healed skooma addicts before. I should have realized. The signs are all there. Weight loss. Loss of appetite. Lack of concern about her appearance. Sunken eyes. Mood swings. Shirking responsibilities. Dilated pupils. Even the trouble with her bowels.” She shook her head. “And I couldn’t cure her. That should have told me everything. If you catch a skooma addict early, you can cure them, but once they’re on it long enough they’ll always crave it and go back to it.”

Unmid stepped forward until he stood just behind the throne and the two brothers. “Mother, are you certain? If this is true, it means I failed my duty to the jarl.”

“It fits the signs. I just didn’t put the pieces together. I’m so used to skooma addicts being homeless wrecks living on the streets that come crawling to me for healing. If you want to be certain, we can check her ‘medicine’. I know what skooma looks like.”

“I’m not sure I believe this,” said Harrald. “But, I suppose there is no harm in checking mother’s medicine.”

Unmid nodded. “I agree. Not that I don’t believe you, Mother, but we must check her medicine, but if it is skooma… Maven Black-Briar will taste my blade.” He strode to the door and knocked. “Jarl Law-Giver, your sons and I need to speak to you.”

No answer came.

Unmid knocked again. “Jarl Law-Giver?”

Still no answer. Daenerys looked to the Law-Giver brothers. From the frowns on their faces, they also knew something was wrong.

Unmid pulled upon a necklace and lifted it up over his head. There were three keys on the necklace. He grabbed one and knocked again. “Jarl Law-Giver? I’m coming in.” He opened the door

Jarl Law-Giver lay upon the bed with her throat cut open and blood everywhere. A handmaiden or other servant in Law-Giver livery lay dead upon the floor. Her throat was also cut open. From the smell of fresh blood they had died recently.

Unmid and the Law-Giver brothers rushed inside. Saerlund grabbed his mother’s corpse and held onto her, tears dripping from his eyes as Harrald and Unmid yelled at each other about how this could have happened.

Daenerys followed in their wake trying to understand. If Maven was responsible, and she had no other suspect, why had she done this? This wasn’t her style at all. There was no subtlety. Maybe it was desperation, but how had Maven even known? Then she noticed that there was a third corpse in the room.

Raina lay on the floor. She was still wearing the red on black livery dress that she had inexpertly made. Her eyes were open and glazed over. She would never see anything again. A jeweled dagger was sticking out of her chest, thrust up under the ribcage. Daenerys had a brief remembrance. That was exactly the same way Jon Snow had killed her.


	38. Chapter 38

# Chapter 36

Sundas, the 3rd of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys stared into the dead eyes of her handmaiden. She was too late to save Raina. She wanted to breakdown and cry about it, the way that Saerlund was for his mother. However, that would have to wait for later. Now that the initial shock was over, she realized that the dagger thrust had not killed Raina. There was too little blood on her dress for that. She also noticed that Raina’s wrists were torn up as well. Probably from struggling against manacles or rope bindings. She wanted to rage and yell like Harrald and Unmid were doing. She had saved Raina from captivity only for her to end her life as a captive. However, her heart was beating fast and all her instincts were screaming trap.

Kjen, the tall blonde guard who was stationed outside came running in and paused in shock. “What happened here?!”

“Quiet!” she yelled at him before this disaster could get any further out of hand. “This was staged. Have none of you noticed my missing handmaiden is here.? She was lame. There is no possible way she wandered in here, killed two people only to get killed herself. Not to mention that wounds like that bleed all over the place. This was meant to turn the Law-Givers against me and the Dragonguard. Where is the jarl’s medicine?”

Nura Snow-Shod shook herself and pointed. “In this cabinet.” She went over and opened the door. “Which is empty.”

“Someone removed the evidence.” That wasn’t surprising, but it made things more difficult. “How did the killer even get in here? For that matter, how did Raina get in here?” Daenerys pointed to her handmaiden’s corpse. “Did she limp past you, Kjen?”

“No, she did not,” said Kjen.

“Secret passages,” said Saerlund. He still had tears on his face, but he was clearly thinking now even as he clung to his mother’s corpse. “This keep is full of them. There is an escape passage in this room.”

“Secret passages! That’s how they must have brought Raina here.” She had discussed secret passages with Barbas. Gods, this was her fault. She briefed her team in her suite, and some of them had been rather loud. Someone had been listening. Maven? Hemming? Someone else? It didn’t matter. Solving the details didn’t matter. She viciously shoved her self-recrimination aside. “This was a setup, a trap to turn us against each other – ”

“Or maybe you had the jarl killed and are trying to blame everyone else!” accused Unmid.

“I don’t believe – ” began Harrald.

Saerlund looked up from his mother’s body. “She’s right. There isn’t enough blood. The girl wasn’t killed here. Look at mother. Look at me. This is what happens when a person bleeds out.”

Nura Snow-Shod walked toward her son. “The Dragonborn was with me the whole time. Talos has told me that she is truly the Dragonborn. If you think that I would lie and betray the jarl, strike me down with that sword of yours.”

Unmid bowed his head. “Of course, I believe you, mother. So, who did this? Why?”

Daenerys wanted to shrug. She didn’t know. “Maven or Hemming. As to why… Panic, I would guess. The Dragonguard has been uncovering all her secrets. Hemming’s lack of competence. Her allies in the Thieves’ Guild and even the Dark Brotherhood. I came here with your brother and your mother to get proof, but the jarl is dead.” And they were still talking, but that was better than fighting amongst themselves.

“So, what do we do?” asked Harrald.

“We hunt her down and kill her,” replied Unmid.

Harrald nodded and drew his sword.

Saerlund lay his mother down and closed her eyes. “I need my armor. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Daenerys had the brief hope that Maven’s plan had backfired. Those were dashed when she heard the sound of swordplay coming from outside the suite. “You had better hurry, Saerlund. The fighting has already begun.” She strode back into the sitting room. “Harrald, Unmid, you should both lead. Try to get them to stand down. I don’t want to kill your people.”

Harrald nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

She opened the door and let them go first, but she was right behind them. Chaos reigned. They were being assaulted from both ends of the corridor. To her left Mjoll and Sofija were fighting side-by-side and driving the Riften guard back. Neither were holding back. Two Riften guards were already down. Things were worse on the right-hand side. Aringoth was down with a belly wound that was bleeding. The old guard whose name she didn’t know backed up against the wall being held at sword point by Vignar Grey-Mane while Torvar defended against two men at once that were attacking from the other direction.

From down the corridor past Mjoll and Sofija, she heard the Hemming Black-Briar yelling. “There she is! There’s the murderer. Kill the Dragonborn!” yelled Hemming Black-Briar from the back of the Riften Guards.

“Traitor!” bellowed Unmid at the top of his lungs. “You did this! Not the Dragonborn! I’m coming for you!”

Harrald tried to stop the fighting, but his “Everyone, stand down!” but went unheeded.

Daenerys pulled Aringoth back out of the fight and into the Jarl’s sitting room. She had to push past Kjen to do it. “Kjen, get your partner out of the fight and explain things to him. Nura can heal him.” That would free up Vignar to help Torvar.

Kjen pounded his fist on his chest. “Yes, Dragonborn!” and went through the doorway to the battle.

Over the sounds of fighting, Unmid’s booming voice echoed with his fury. “Anyone who stands between me and Hemming’s death is a traitor!”

Daenerys turned to Aringoth. He didn’t look good at all. He had lost a lot of blood. She wasn’t even certain that he was breathing.

Nura Snow-Shod crouched down beside Aringoth. “I’ve got him. Go.”

Daenerys wasn’t sure Aringoth could be saved, but two healers weren’t better than one. She left him to Nura. He was in good hands. As Daenerys stood, she caught a glimpse of movement in the jarl’s bedroom. She took a cautious step in that direction. Was someone there?

“There she is!” yelled someone. “Kill the Dragonborn!” Two men she didn’t know wearing the armor of the Riften guards charged at her with more following in their wake.

Daenerys inhaled and Shouted three words, “ **Fus** - **Ro** - **Dah**!”

Her Shout tore their charge apart. Pure force sent men flying backwards, tumbling, and rolling.

She rushed forward drawing her mace as she went. She could fight, but she was not a warrior, like Unmid or Torvar who had trained for battle since they were children. She had training, under Adept Malak, Fultheim, and the Companions. She could defend herself. She was fast and strong, but she cheated with spells and shouts to compensate for her lack of skill. Against multiple attackers she couldn’t afford to hesitate. She rushed forward while the attackers were off-balance and brought her mace down with all her might on the helmet of one dazed warrior. She smashed another in the knee as he started to come feet, and then she backpedaled quickly out of the jarl’s bedroom to try to hold the doorway so they could only come at her one at a time.

A bear of a man wearing full plate armor painted black came at her. Like most warriors he favored shield and sword. He also favored an open-faced helm. He was a handsome man, mostly clean-shaven with only a tiny triangle of a beard below his mouth. She didn’t recognize his face, but his shield bore the circle of thorns that was the symbol of Clan Black-Briar. He laughed as he stepped forward. “I hear you can only do that once. My turn.”

Daenerys blocked his blow with her buckler. Even with her strength the blow still staggered her. She was forced to step back only for him to bash her with his shield. She shot a short burst of Flames at him with her left hand, but he blocked with his shield. He pushed forward clearing the doorway.

“Sibbi!” yelled Saerlund as he entered the fray. He had obviously not had time to don his armor. He was only wearing the leather padding that went underneath full plate armor and his feet were bare. However, his sword flicked out as fast as a striking serpent. “You should have stayed in jail, murderer!”

Daenerys seized the opportunity presented and channeled the little bit of magicka she had into her Shove spell and aimed at Sibbi Black-Brair’s feet. She had named the spell Shove because that was really what it was. It wasn’t a damaging blow. It was just about the force and power of a strong shove. However, it had one advantage over Flames, Shock, or Frost. It was pure force and only visible if the air was smoky or misty.

Sibbi’s leg buckled under him and he flailed for balance.

Saerlund struck in that moment. He executed a classic full lunge and thrust his sword right under Sibbi’s chin.

Sibbi Black-Briar collapsed to the floor, hands going to his throat.

“Always told him he should wear a full-helmet,” remarked Saerlund casually despite the fact that he himself was fighting barefoot with no helm.

For a moment their little portion of the fight was at standstill. Two Riften Guards stood on their side of the doorway while she and Saerlund stood on their side. Whoever went through the door first would have to fight two men at once.

“So,” said Daenerys. “Why exactly did you two turn traitor? How much was your soul worth? Was it at least a big bag of gold? Or just a few coins? I’m curious how much it costs for man to forsake Sovngarde and embrace Boethiah. That is where the souls of traitors go.”

“We’re not traitors. You killed the jarl.” A helmet hid the face of the man, but his voice shook.

While they talked the fight was still continuing behind them. Above the clash of steel, only Unmid’s voice still promising Hemming’s death could be heard.

“Who told you that?” demanded Saerlund. “Because I was with the Dragonborn the whole time. You were the ones who emerged from the same secret passage the assassin used. Not to mention you were following a known murderer.”

“We didn’t do it!” said one guard.

“It was the Captain,” said the other as he threw down his sword. “I’m no traitor. I was just following orders.”

“Die! Die! Die!” shouted Unmid from somewhere behind them. His shouts turned into great booming laughter.

Daenerys shook her head. “I don’t think Captain Hemming is around any longer. If you tell us everything now, it might save your head from the chopping block.”

The two guards babbled out a story of Hemming Black-Briar gathering men together. Sibbi Black-Briar had been set free, given sword and armor and then led them out through a secret passageway that opened in his jail cell, making a total mockery of the claim that he’d ever been imprisoned. Apparently, Sibbi knew his way around the secret passages very well, because he led them straight to the jarl’s bedroom.

Saerlund had the men disarm and sit. “We’ll deal with you later. Lady Targaryen, it sounds like this fight is over, but I’m going to finish getting my armor on. I doubt this day is over.”

Daenerys nodded her agreement. “A wise precaution.” She turned and saw Nura Snow-Shod healing men, mostly Riften guards that were being brought to her. Off to one side were several corpses. One of them was Aringoth Golden-Glow. She felt a pang of guilt. Another death to lay at her feet. Aringoth had been safe back on his estate, but she could count the cost when the battle was over.

She returned to the corridor outside the jarl’s sitting room. There were more corpses outside than wounded. Unmid stood covered in blood still laughing over Hemming’s corpse. Daenerys had heard of Nords going berserk, but she’d never seen it happen. Looking at the aftermath, she felt lucky to have missed seeing it this time.

“Where’s Saerlund?” asked Harrald Law-Giver. He looked tired and his blade was bloody, but he had no obvious injuries.

“He survived. He went to get the rest of his armor on. I’m lucky he came when he did. I don’t think I could have taken Sibbi Black-Briar by myself.”

“Sibbi?! He was supposed to be in jail for murder.”

Daenerys shrugged. “Hemming armed Sibbi and sent him to kill us. It seems there was an opening to the secret passages in his jail cell.”

Harrald Law-Giver let out a long sigh. “You were right, Dragonborn. You were right about everything. Does being right make you feel better?”

Daenerys shook her head. “No, it doesn’t, and I make mistakes as well. Come on, we need to search the keep and make sure that the remaining Riften Guards are loyal to your family. We also have to find Maven. It’s not over until she’s done.”

“Aye,” agreed Harrald. “You’re right about that. Where do we start?”

Daenerys felt like sighing. Harrald would be the next jarl. He should be leading. “First, we have to make sure the Riften guard are all reporting to you. Then we search the keep for Maven. I ordered the Dragonguard to gather here. Once the keep is secure, we merge our forces and secure the city.”

.oOo.

“So, what happens now?” asked Harrald Law-Giver hours later as they watched the messenger from Gonar Oath-Giver depart after giving the news that Maven Black-Briar had fled.

Daenerys wasn’t sure how to answer. A lot of things had happened after Hemming Black-Briar died. They took control of Mistveil Keep with little loss of life. Maven Black-Briar wasn’t anywhere to be found. She had fled to the Riften wall. There, Maven had convinced Gonar Oath-Giver to strip the wall of soldiers and march on Mistveil Keep to save it from the Dragonguard attackers. With Harrald and Saerlund at her side, they had managed to convince Gonar Oath-Giver to talk first and avoided that fight. However, all that had taken time. It really wasn’t a surprise that Maven Black-Briar was long gone by the time that Gonar returned to the wall.

Daenerys knew that she had achieved almost everything she had hoped to achieve in Riften with little loss of life. The Thieves’ Guild was all but wiped out. She had acquired the officers she wanted most, and they would likely become Nightingales in her service. The power of the Black-Briars in Riften was broken. Sibbi and Hemming Black-Briar were both dead, and their sister Ingun had been captured. Most of the fighting and deaths had been amongst the Riften Guard. The Dragonguard had only lost three people. Aringoth Golden-Glow, Raina, and Aana.

Daenerys wondered if anyone besides her would even mourn Raina and Aana. She’d saved them from bandits at Fort Greymoor, but she failed to protect them, and they’d paid the price for her arrogance. Aringoth would be mourned. Harrald and Saerlund mourned their mother. Daenerys barely knew her. She regretted her death because it would come back to haunt her. The facts didn’t matter. She had now been involved in the overthrow of two jarls. One had been accepted and even shared as a story, but the other jarls would not believe two holds falling as just a coincidence. Especially if Maven Black-Briar escaped the Rift. The gods only knew what kind of lies she would weave. Fortunately, Saerlund saved her from having to answer Harrald’s question.

“What happens now?” asked Saerlund rhetorically. “We have a feast, brother. I know you don’t feel like it any more than I do, but we need to announce your coronation and the feast is already prepared. We’ll have the ceremony later, but the people need to know. You proclaim this a victory. The Thieves’ Guild is gone. The Black-Briars are gone. You never saw it, but just about everyone in Riften hated the Black-Briars. There will be celebrations in the streets. You proclaim the Dragonborn the hero of the day. Then, while everyone cheers you and I get quietly drunk and remember our mother.”

Daenerys nodded her agreement. “Your brother is right. The people need to celebrate this. I’ll dismiss the Dragonguard. I’ll send them to the Forgotten Hole.” That building was huge. The arena only took up a portion of it. “I’ll give Burly Orryn a bag of gold to pay for several barrels of ale and mead. They can drink and celebrate. They earned it. I’ll keep Sofija and a few others near me for you to show off and brag about. I’ll thank you and give a speech about what a great jarl you will be.” Maybe she would even get drunk with them, but she expected the brothers would want to drink alone and mourn their mother.

“No,” said Harrald. There was no anger in his voice, but he sounded resolved.

Saerlund sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No? I don’t feel like celebrating either, but – ”

“That’s not what I meant. Yes, we’ll do the celebration. Yes, we’ll announce the new jarl, but it won’t be me. It will be you, Saerlund. Make me Captain of the Guard. That, I can do. If you don’t want me, I can join the Dragonguard and cement our alliance.”

“But, brother it has always been you. You’re the eldest.”

Harrald shook his head. “I’m a better fighter, but you’ll be a better jarl. I’ve been fooled too often. The Thieves’ Guild. Maven Black-Briar.” He paused and looked at Daenerys. “Lady Targaryen, what my brother claimed about Ulfric. Is that true as well? Is he fighting for himself and not for Skyrim?”

She smiled at him. “That’s not a yes or no. Ulfric is not fighting only for himself. He does fight for Skyrim, but he believes he is the only one who can possibly lead Skyrim. So, I would say your brother is mostly right.” She laid a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. “You’re a good man, Harrald Law-Giver. You’re right, Saerlund will make a better jarl, but there are very few that can walk away from power.” She knew that allure herself. Power drew her like a moth to the flame. Except others had burned for her ambition. Now, she was trying to be worthy. “You’re a very good man.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with a blush. “But a jarl has to be more than good. A jarl has to be wise as well.” He turned to Saerlund. “And that’s why it has to be you.”

Saerlund looked back and forth between them. “If you’re certain, Harrald, I’ll do it, and I won’t just make you Captain of the Guard. I’ll make you Marshall of the entire Rift. Come on, we have a feast to plan.”


	39. Epilogue

# Epilogue

  
The sun had set but the celebrations were still going on throughout Riften. The sounds of revelry came from every tavern, every inn, every brothel, and every home. Daenerys left the Mistveil Manor to return to the Dragonguard at the Forgotten Hole. The Law-Giver brothers had each other and both needed and wanted to celebrate with her Dragonguard. She would worry about tomorrow’s problems when tomorrow came. She had circulated through the crowd twice, trying to at least acknowledge everyone. She kept a drink in her hand so more weren’t forced on her, but she was still a little beyond pleasantly tipsy and approaching drunk. She took a seat for a moment to just relax and take in the celebration. She hadn’t forgotten Raina, Aana, or Aringoth, but she had reached a place where she could acknowledge that this had been a victory despite their loss. The Thieves’ Guild and the Black-Briars were both destroyed, and the Dragonguard now had the backing of another jarl. That was a very good thing for the future of the Dragonguard.  
  
Barbas suddenly gave a low warning growl.  
  
A man plopped down in a chair beside her. He was a young man, a Breton by appearance, and beautiful in a manly way. Although it was hard to say why. She usually preferred men with more muscles. It wasn’t his wavy brown hair, and it certainly wasn’t his bloodshot eyes. He just had a presence about him. Despite his unassuming physique, something about him said powerful and dangerous.  
  
“Ah Riften, I haven’t been here in ages, but they do know how to throw a party, and they take their drinking seriously.” He smiled at her. “Hey, you look like someone who can hold their liquor. How about a friendly contest?”  
  
Daenerys sat up straighter. Not because of his words. Because of the language he used. He was speaking Valyrian with a drunken slur. “Where did you learn that language?”  
  
Barbas barked.  
  
Daenerys frowned. Why hadn’t she understood Barbas? She gave herself a shake, but her thoughts were muddled by too much wine. “Who are you? What kind of contest?”  
  
“Ooh, you like questions. That’s cute.” He waved a flagon around sloshing some mead onto the floor. “I’ll make you deal. Go three rounds with me, and I’ll answer three questions. Any three questions you like. True answers.”  
  
Barbas barked again.  
  
Who, or what was this man? He did not feel like Clavicus Vile or like Paar-Thur-Nax, but there was a palpable sense of power. “That’s it? Go three rounds with you, and you’ll answer three questions?”  
  
“Yes, three questions. Hey, I’ll even throw in a nifty staff.”  
  
“I’m interested in answers, not your cock,” scoffed Daenerys. Yes, he was attractive, but she did not just jump into any guy’s bed.  
  
He burst out laughing and handed her a drink that he’d gotten from somewhere. “Not that kind of staff, but if you want, I can set you up with this guy I know. I think you’d like him.” He had another drink in his hand. “Bottoms up.”  
  


.oOo.

End Book 2

Dovah Queen, Dragonborn Champion

The saga of Daenerys Targaryen in Tamriel will continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank all my readers at this time. This one has been a longer ride than I expected. I thought the Riften arc would take a couple of chapters, but it turned into thirteen chapters to cover just two days worth of events. I think I really grew as a writer in the process. Writing conflict that revolves around combat is easy. Writing political conflict is hard. I think I could do better starting over and trim off some unimportant events, but all-in-all I'm satisfied with the results and I'm going to keep moving forward.
> 
> I know you're probably all curious about when the next book will open. I've plotted ahead multiple chapters and I have part of a Prologue done. As I'm out-of-work due to COVID, I have more time to write and I hope to get it open within a week, but it might two weeks as I won't open until I am at least have chapter one drafted as well.
> 
> I'm trying to write this story so that knowledge of Skyrim is not required. Those of you not familiar with Skyrim have probably guessed that there is something more going in the epilogue. It's related to a famous Skyrim quest called "A Night to Remember" loosely stolen from the plot of the movie "The Hangover". I will fill in details in chapter one. That will come after the prologue which will be told from Sofija's point of view.
> 
> I'd also like to thank my betas at this time. Grigori on SpaceBattles and Rattatatouille on Sufficient Velocity have both been a tremendous help to me in finding errors in grammar, logic, and especially my awful tendency to get names wrong. Big thanks for them.


End file.
